


Living together

by Kitacular



Series: More than Brothers [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Anal, Bondage, Breathplay, Chastity Device, Consensual Kink, Cutting, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Fear Play, Forced Orgasm, Friendship, Humiliation, M/M, Ownership, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5563219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitacular/pseuds/Kitacular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two Musketeers spend a weekend working out what their new relationship means day to day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stress relief

July 1925  
  


“The way they look at me, Porthos,” Aramis said miserably, staring into the fire.

“Hiding here won't help, Sire,” said Porthos from his own chair opposite Aramis.

“I just couldn't face eating with them after today.”

“I know it's hard but they're our brothers. If you keep hiding from them, they'll think you have something to hide,” he said quietly.

Aramis sighed and leaned back in his chair. It was very late. Aramis had been obsessing all night and it was now past midnight.

“They look at me with such suspicion. At least we have tomorrow off,” Aramis said. Porthos didn't answer. Aramis sighed and stood up, retrieving a bottle of wine from the kitchen and returned to his chair by the fire.

“You see suspicion because you're looking for it, love,” Porthos said quietly.

“What do you see in them, then?”

“Concern and, yes, a little confusion. It's been months now, Sire. They're not actually suspicious. I absolutely understand why you don't want to talk to them and they do, too. We've all got our share of secrets that we don't want to share. They grow confused, however, that you're avoiding them all.”

“I'm not avoiding them,” replied Aramis quietly.

“Then why did you refuse to show those two new men today your powder sachets? Why did we eat here?” Porthos countered.

Aramis sighed again and leaned forward to remove his boots. Porthos sank to his knees in front of Aramis' chair and began to remove them for him.

“Maybe you're right. I just see such expectation in their eyes. They want me to tell them what happened.”

“You don't have to tell them but they'll continue to be confused and curious until they see you back to normal,” Porthos said, smiling up at him. Aramis reached out and stroked Porthos' curls. Porthos leaned into his hand.

“Kiss me,” whispered Aramis.

Porthos stood up and took Aramis' hand, pulling him to his feet. He wrapped his arms around Aramis and kissed him deeply. He felt Aramis relax against his body, arching his back to press himself against Porthos. Porthos wound his hand into Aramis' hair and used his other arm to wrap tightly around Aramis' waist.

Aramis sighed against Porthos' mouth, marvelling at how the whole world fell away when Porthos kissed him. He arched his back further and pressed against Porthos. He felt Porthos rumble his approval and tighten his grip in his hair.

Porthos dipped his head to murmur in Aramis' ear without releasing his hair.

“Sire?”

“Please, love,” Aramis whispered, answering Porthos' question. Porthos growled into his ear and Aramis sighed again. Porthos yanked his head back and hungrily ran his mouth and nose along Aramis' jaw and throat.

Without warning Porthos used his foot to sweep one of Aramis' feet out from under him. Porthos span them round, causing Aramis to lose his balance. He used the momentum to make Aramis fall backwards and Porthos followed him down. He used his body weight to press heavily against Aramis and pin him to the floor.

Aramis gasped and felt his breath whoosh out of him as he hit the floor, his head protected by Porthos' firm grip. His legs were pinned together by Porthos' muscled legs. Aramis squirmed, feeling the delicious fear and uncertainty make the butterflies in his stomach begin.

Porthos pressed his body weight on him and ground his pelvis against Aramis'. He felt himself twitch at the lithe body squirming under him. He released his grip on Aramis' hair and placed it on his throat. He leaned slightly, pinning Aramis to the floor and used his other hand to roughly touch Aramis through his breeches. Aramis moaned and arched his hips up.

“Whore,” hissed Porthos. He smirked as a rush of colour rose almost immediately in Aramis' cheeks. He increased the pressure on Aramis' throat and watched his eyes widen. Aramis fluttered his hands over Porthos' chest, unsure what to do.

Porthos stood, picking Aramis up by the throat and slamming him against the wall.

“Strip for me,” Porthos growled, holding Aramis firmly against the wall.

Aramis pulled on Porthos' wrist, trying to remove his grip. Porthos stood fast. Aramis lifted one leg to kick out at Porthos but Porthos took a step forward and pressed his still booted foot to the top of Aramis' bare one in warning.

“No,” he growled. “Strip,” he repeated.

Aramis squirmed against the wall and continued to pull at Porthos' wrist. Porthos leaned forwards and used his weight to cause Aramis difficulty breathing.

“If you don't strip for me, I will have to remove your clothes myself with a knife. If I have to do that, I will be extremely angry and just might slip,” he hissed dangerously. He pushed his hand between their two bodies and roughly fondled Aramis. He chuckled darkly when Aramis whimpered.

“So are you really trying to tell me you don't want this? That feeling me so close doesn't turn you on? That being treated like the whore you are doesn't feel right? Let's test that theory,” Porthos growled.

Porthos stepped back, releasing Aramis entirely. Aramis slid to the floor at the loss of contact. Porthos folded his arms and looked down at Aramis crumpled on the floor.

Aramis looked up at Porthos and felt his insides lurch at the sight of him stood above him. Porthos had crossed his arms and was smirking down at him. Aramis whimpered and shifted restlessly. He knew what he wanted but was too ashamed to admit it. He felt himself growing harder and crouched slightly to hide it from Porthos.

Porthos silently counted to twenty and gave an exaggerated sigh. He decided to take a risk and strode around the panting form of Aramis and retrieved his knife. He crouched down in front of Aramis and showed him the knife.

“Are you going to be good?” he asked, the threat in his voice obvious. Aramis whimpered. Porthos gripped his throat again and stood, dragging Aramis up to his feet. He placed the tip of the knife at Aramis' throat.

“Strip,” he growled again. Aramis whined breathlessly and lifted his shaking hands to undo the laces of his breeches. Porthos stepped away and sat in his armchair, motioning for Aramis to continue.

Aramis drew his braces off his shoulders and pulled his shirt off. He shivered as Porthos raked his eyes up and down his chest. He slowly drew his breeches down over his hips and stepped awkwardly out of them. He used his hands to cover his arousal and stood nervously in front of Porthos.

“I said strip,” said Porthos bluntly. “I am getting tired of repeating myself.”

Aramis' cheeks were blazing with heat as he removed his underwear, finally revealing his erect cock to the hungry eyes of Porthos.

“On your knees,” Porthos growled. He smirked as Aramis' natural defiance lit up in his eyes.

Porthos stood, drawing himself to his full height and approaching Aramis. His cock hardened in his underwear seeing the stubbornness in Aramis' eyes waver.

“On. Your. Knees,” Porthos hissed.

They stood for several long seconds, Porthos not touching his naked lover at all. He was simply patiently waiting for Aramis to give in. Finally Aramis whimpered and slid to his knees in front of Porthos.

Porthos laughed cruelly and Aramis whimpered again. Porthos strode to their bedroom and beckoned Aramis. Aramis moaned with sheer arousal as he found himself crawling after Porthos.

Porthos pulled his shirt off. He folded it neatly and draped it over the back of a chair. He undid the laces on his breeches and under-clothes and pushed them down over his hips. He sat on the edge of their high bed and watched his beautiful lover panting on his knees in the doorway.

“Finish undressing me,” Porthos said loudly. Aramis knee-walked to Porthos and began removing his boots with shaking hands.

Porthos watched the quivering form of Aramis, admiring how the flush of his humiliation was spreading down his neck and across his breath taking collarbones. Porthos' cock was now stood at full attention and he watched as Aramis' eyes registered this fact.

Aramis was trembling. He couldn't believe how turned on he was. It was making his brain fuzzy and his hands shake. He finally managed to remove Porthos' second boot and raised himself on his knees to draw Porthos' remaining clothes down his legs. The movement brought him within inches of Porthos' thick, hard cock and he couldn't help letting out a small whimper.

Porthos' hand flashed out like lightning and gripped Aramis' hair, drawing his head forward until it was almost touching Porthos' cock. Aramis opened his mouth and strained to reach him. Porthos laughed mercilessly and let go of Aramis' hair. He lightly pushed Aramis away.

“Get on with it,” he said gruffly. He cock twitched when he saw Aramis tongue dart out and lick his lips. Aramis quickly drew the rest of his clothes down and lay them on the same chair Porthos had put his shirt. When he turned back it was to find Porthos had leaned forwards.

Porthos captured Aramis' mouth in a searing kiss. He pulled Aramis roughly up onto his lap and claimed his mouth hungrily. He groaned as Aramis' legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and his arms around his neck. Aramis moaned in reply and squirmed on Porthos' thighs.

Porthos reached into their bedside drawer and retrieved the bottle of oil. Aramis heard what he was doing and moaned wantonly against his mouth. Porthos wrapped his arms tightly around Aramis' waist and moved them backwards until his back was against the wall, jostling Aramis as he did so. He didn't stop kissing Aramis for a second.

Porthos gently moved Aramis back slightly and coated his fingers with oil. Aramis moaned loudly against Porthos' increasingly bruising kiss when he felt Aramis' index finger circling his entrance.

Aramis moaned again and buried his face in Porthos' shoulder, holding himself still. Porthos arched his hips, causing Aramis' ass to move against his oiled finger.

“Oh please, Sir,” Aramis moaned into Porthos' neck. Porthos felt his own hard cock twitch between them and felt pure instinct drive him to rekindle Aramis' humiliation.

“Go on then, whore,” he growled into Aramis' ear. He was rewarded with a loud keening noise.

Aramis was light-headed with arousal. He was achingly hard and desperately, desperately wanted Porthos to just take him. He hadn't felt Porthos inside him since that night in the tent months ago.

“Please, Sir,” he repeated.

“Oh no, lover. You can't hide from me,” he growled into Aramis' ear. “You're such a dirty slut that you're going to fuck yourself on my fingers.”

Aramis shook his head against Porthos' neck. Porthos chuckled darkly and arched his hips again, lifting Aramis so he was moved clear of Porthos' finger. He raised his finger a tiny bit so that when he lowered his hips, Aramis had to hold himself up to stop Porthos' finger entering him.

“Oh please, Sir, please,” Aramis begged against Porthos' neck.

“Come on, lover. I know what you want. Show me what a whore you are,” Porthos growled.

Aramis whimpered again and felt his eyes watering, utterly humiliated, as he finally sank onto Porthos' well oiled finger.

He moaned desperately, feeling himself forced open by Porthos' thick finger. He held himself still after only a few seconds, adjusting to the intrusion. Porthos was taking deep breaths to try and steady himself, the feeling of Aramis' blazing hot face pressed against his shoulder making him ache with desire.

Aramis forced himself to relax and sank entirely onto Porthos' finger. He moaned loudly, the noise cut off as Porthos pulled his head back by his hair.

“You are so fucking beautiful. I love you so much. You know that?” Porthos growled, his voice thick with desire. Aramis nodded. Porthos pulled his head down roughly for a painfully intense kiss, crushing Aramis' lips against his own. Aramis moaned helplessly against his mouth, not being given any room to kiss Porthos back. He was forced to simply let Porthos' mouth have dominion over his own.

Porthos finally began to move his finger in and out of Aramis, eliciting a high keening noise. He added a second digit after less than a minute and felt Aramis begin to move with him. Porthos broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Aramis'. He could feel the sweat on Aramis' skin

“That's it, lover,” he whispered. “Show me what you want. Show me what a harlot you are.”

Aramis whimpered again and began to raise himself up and down on Porthos' fingers with increasing intensity. Porthos added a third and felt Aramis hesitate as his muscles needed to stretch to accommodate him. Porthos growled and forced his fingers up into Aramis. Aramis arched his back and Porthos felt his muscles twitching around his fingers. Aramis suddenly began to raise and lower himself on Porthos' hand quickly, fucking himself wantonly with his lover's fingers.

Porthos took great steadying breaths. The sight of Aramis being so brazen despite his shame was almost too much to bear. His own cock was throbbing, painfully hard.

“Oh please, please, please,” chanted Aramis with every self inflicted stroke. Porthos wound his hand into Aramis' hair and pulled it back sharply. He curled his fingers forward until he felt Aramis gasp in surprise.

Aramis froze, still impaled on Porthos three thick fingers. Porthos pulled his hair back even further and heard Aramis keening loudly. Porthos stroked his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves and felt Aramis shudder. Porthos stroked it again and again, delighting in the helpless whimpers and moans coming from his lover above him as he milked Aramis relentlessly.

Aramis gasped in surprise and arched his hips, utterly taken by surprise by his orgasm. He exploded across Porthos' chest, shocked by the intensity of his orgasm without his cock being touched at all.

Porthos kept the pressure on, both on Aramis' hair and inside him, right until the moment Aramis sagged against his chest. Porthos gently withdrew his fingers, feeling Aramis shuddering. Porthos released Aramis' hair and gently pushed his head forward until it was rested on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around the trembling form of Aramis and stroked his back with one and his hair with the other.

“You're so wonderful, lover,” he crooned softly into Aramis' ear. Aramis laughed shakily against his neck.

“Love you,” he murmured in reply.

Porthos smiled and stroked Aramis' back calmly. He waited until Aramis' breathing had returned to normal before gently twisting them until they were laid in bed. He tugged a cloth from the headboard and subtly cleaned them both up, chuckling to himself as Aramis lay spread eagled on the bed, murmuring to himself, and didn't move.

Porthos stretched out beside him and manoeuvred the boneless Aramis onto his side. He pulled Aramis against him and bit his lip. He smiled as he felt Aramis fall asleep almost instantly.

 

 


	2. Power is absolute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis realises the extent of his control

Aramis woke up and felt the gentle throbbing reminding him of what had happened the night before. He shivered with the memory of it, his cheeks growing warm as he remembered how humiliated Porthos had made him feel.

Aramis smiled, feeling Porthos' erection pressed into his hip from behind. His own cock began to stir, just at the knowledge Porthos was hard. He realised with a start that Porthos hadn't had any relief the night before. He twisted in Porthos' arms and kissed the still sleeping Porthos.

Porthos was woken by the feeling of Aramis moving. He smiled, feeling Aramis' lips brush his own. He tightened his arms gently around Aramis' waist and murmured happily.

“Mornin',”

“Good morning, my love,” Aramis said brightly, shimmying himself against Porthos, his own semi-hardness rubbing against Porthos' fully hard member. Porthos gasped sleepily and ran his hands over Aramis' back.

“Last night... You didn't...” Aramis trailed off. He feared asking why Porthos hadn't taken his own pleasure last night.

Porthos grinned sleepily and kissed Aramis gently.

“I wasn't aware that I was permitted,” he murmured. Aramis' eyes widened in surprise.

“You... Even then?” he asked.

“Mhmm. You told me it was a rule, Sire,” Porthos said without a trace of embarrassment.

“But you have-” Aramis began.

“Only at your instruction,” Porthos said, amusement in his eyes.

Aramis thought back. He slowly realised that it was true. Every time they'd had relations since they returned to Paris, he'd always instructed Porthos to spend himself.

“Interesting,” said Aramis slowly. Porthos watched him curiously. “So... rules I give you aren't just situational?”

Porthos' gaze flickered, doubt creeping in.

“Shh,” said Aramis, noticing the change in his expression. “I'm just thinking aloud.”

Porthos propped his head up on his hand and settled his hand on Aramis' waist.

“The sense of ownership I have over you is instinctive. I know you are mine. I am, however, still adjusting to having such tangible control over you.”

Aramis turned onto his back and smiled up at Porthos. Porthos smoothed his hand in lazy circles over Aramis' stomach, edging closer to Aramis' slowly hardening cock. Aramis laughed and stilled his hand.

“I'm thinking,” Aramis scolded slightly. Porthos chuckled but moved his hand up to Aramis' chest instead. “So... even when your instincts, and mine, are screaming at you to do the opposite...”

“Your word is law,” Porthos finished for him simply.

“Indeed. That's very good to know. So no matter how aroused you get, how hard you get or how much I beg you to fuck me so hard I lose my mind, you won't ever release without my say so?”

Porthos swallowed hard and nodded.

“Whenever it's in my power, I will obey you, Sire,” he replied thickly.

“Now that I think about it, you don't even have permission to touch yourself, do you?”

“No, Sire,” Porthos answered, his fingers twitching on Aramis' chest.

“So... I have the authority to put other rules in place?” Aramis asked thoughtfully.

“Indeed,” replied Porthos.

“OK... Good to know. I think an excellent starting point is to reaffirm the no touching, no playing, no release rule. Let's say I underestimated the reach of the rule but you interpreted it correctly. Unless I give you an explicit instruction, the rule remains in place. Even when I am begging you on my knees, my love, you do not disobey this instruction. Understand?”

“Yes, Sire,” answered Porthos huskily. “I... I appreciate the reminder that I'm yours even when you've given yourself to me.”

Aramis blinked in surprise.

“I hadn't thought of that, honestly, my love. I'm glad for it, though,” he said. “The only other rule I want to put in place for now is that you are not to wear anything in this room. We will have visitors from time to time but in this room, nothing. OK, darling?”

Porthos nodded and felt his cock throb. Aramis smiled and moved Porthos' hand back down to his stomach. Porthos smiled and resumed stroking in wide circles, watching as Aramis' eyes fluttered closed and he raised his arms up to rest under his head.

Aramis smiled as Porthos' warm broad hand circled on his stomach and he smiled at the pampering. He heard Porthos groan slightly and felt him shift on the bed. He opened one eye and glanced at Porthos' throbbing cock. He cleared his throat.

Porthos smiled at his impatience and obligingly wrapped his hand around Aramis' cock. He stroked Aramis leisurely, feeling him fully harden in his hand.

Aramis sat up slightly, raising an eyebrow at Porthos when he made to let go. He adjusted the pillows until he was reclining comfortably and watched Porthos' hand. He smirked.

“I bet you wish I was doing this to you, my love,” he said. Porthos opened his mouth to reply. “I didn't actually ask a question there, my love. There will be no need to speak unless I ask.”

Porthos nodded.

“Look at you, Porthos. You're so hard, so desperate. I bet you're aching,” Aramis continued quietly.

Porthos groaned and his hips lurched.

“Fetch me the oil, boy,” Aramis said silkily.

Porthos scrambled nervously to retrieve the bottle of oil he'd dropped on the floor the night before. Aramis hadn't taken his ass since they'd arrived back in Paris. Porthos had been craving it constantly but hadn't wanted to push him since he was still new to relations with men.

Aramis licked his lips at the nervous look in Porthos' eyes. He'd been slightly reticent about taking Porthos. He was still coming to terms with the savage sense of propriety it brought out in him. Having Porthos basically tell him he could run his life had made him want to use that power in the most carnal way. He was also feeling particularly eager to make the difference in their stations clear to them both.

“You know what I'm going to do?” he asked, raising himself to his knees and guiding Porthos onto his knees as well. Porthos nodded. “Yes?”

“Yes, Sire,” Porthos said, smiling nervously at him.

“Do you think I'm going to make love to you?” Aramis asked, dribbling oil onto his cock.

“Yes Sire,”

Aramis guided Porthos' hand to him and sighed as Porthos obediently stroked the fluid up and down Aramis' cock.

“I'm not. I do happen to love you but that's not what I'm going to do today,” Aramis said softly. He removed Porthos' hand and used his hand to press his face into the pillows.

“I'm going to fuck you, Porthos,” Aramis said, running his hands over Porthos' upturned backside. Porthos groaned softly. Aramis felt Porthos vibrating with arousal and felt it mirrored in himself. He slicked up two fingers and pushed them both into Porthos without any real warning.

Porthos groaned in pain at the sudden invasion. He felt his muscles protesting as Aramis forced two fingers into him, his cock throbbed painfully.

“I'm going to take you, Porthos. You are mine to use,” Aramis began to thrust his two fingers in mercilessly, not spending a great deal of time worrying about Porthos' pleasure.

“You're mine to claim, mine to fuck, mine to use,” he continued in a low murmur, watching Porthos fisting the sheets. “You're mine to **hurt** ,” Aramis hissed, adding a third finger and a drop more oil.

Porthos squirmed under the onslaught, the pain of Aramis' fingers making him feel utterly defiled. He welcomed the pain and knew he would take anything Aramis would give. He felt totally claimed.

Aramis watched him fist the sheets again as the pain increased. He watched with great satisfaction as Porthos' muscles spread again and again for his fingers. He began to rotate his fingers, listening to Porthos groan.

Porthos gritted his teeth, trying hard to relax. He felt his control being rapidly pulled away from him. He wasn't being given time to adjust to Aramis' ministrations. He realised, as Aramis began to twist his digits, that he had no right to expect that time. Aramis would never harm him but he also didn't need to coddle him any more.

Aramis felt the shift in Porthos' body, the tension leaving his shoulders. He smirked to himself and quickly removed his fingers.

Porthos bellowed in surprise and pain as Aramis suddenly forced his cock into him in one long thrust. He felt Aramis pause, buried deep inside him. His muscles were screaming at him, forced apart by Aramis' cock. Aramis drew himself almost all the way and slammed back in, making Porthos cry out again, fisting the sheets and burying his face into the pillows.

Aramis moaned brazenly and began to thrust in and out of Porthos. He felt Porthos succumb to him and began to fuck him with abandon.

Porthos felt tears stinging his eyes as his lover took him hard and fast. He understood what Aramis had meant about this not being making love. This was raw domination and Porthos felt completely mastered.

Aramis moaned again, listening to Porthos' gasps and hisses of pain but feeling absolutely no resistance from him. He leaned over Porthos to whisper to him but was taken aback to see tears at the corner of Porthos' eyes. They were his undoing.

Porthos groaned as he felt Aramis release deep inside him. He hissed in pain as Aramis ground himself against Porthos' ass. He clenched his muscles around Aramis' still twitching cock.

“Oh good boy,” Aramis moaned softly, feeling Porthos milk his cock for every last drop. He shuddered, sliding his rapidly softening cock out of Porthos' ass and flopping to the bed beside Porthos' still kneeling form. He lay still and panted for a few seconds before chuckling breathlessly.

“Clean us up please,” said Aramis quietly.

Porthos got up without a word and quickly retrieved a cloth. He knelt at the side of the bed and gently cleaned Aramis off, lovingly cradling him and taking care not to touch his overly sensitive places.

Aramis rolled his head to watch colour rushing to Porthos' cheeks as he cleaned himself out. Porthos flicked his eyes up to Aramis' and quickly dropped his gaze in embarrassment.

Porthos tucked the cloth under the edge of the bed and rested his chin on the edge of the bed beside Aramis' shoulder. Aramis smiled at him. Porthos was clearly emotionally overwhelmed by the sudden, rough fucking.

“Not ready to get up yet,” said Aramis sleepily and he patted Porthos' spot next to him on the bed.

Porthos climbed across Aramis and pulled the discarded sheet up over them both. They quickly snuggled into each other in their normal spooning position. Porthos kept trying to keep a distance between his still achingly hard cock and Aramis' invitingly firm buttocks but Aramis was having none of it.

“Cheater,” he mumbled sleepily. Porthos sighed in resignation and pulled Aramis tight against him. Aramis chuckled and squirmed against him listening to Porthos groan. “I like you like this,” he murmured.


	3. A visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two Musketeers get a request

Aramis woke up slowly, feeling ridiculously relaxed. He stretched luxuriously, feeling Porthos wake up as he moved. Aramis mischievously wriggled his backside against Porthos, feeling he was still semi-hard. Porthos gripped Aramis' hip and held him still.

“Tyrant,” Porthos croaked sleepily. Aramis laughed lightly and twisted in Porthos' arms to face him. Porthos opened one eye and smiled at his lover.

“What time is it?” Aramis asked, yawning.

“I'll go and look, Sire,” said Porthos, clambering over Aramis. “You know if I'm the one who's going to be getting up all the time we should really swap sides. You don't have nightmares very often any more.”

“I like that you have to get past me to get up. It makes me feel like I have you safely contained,” Aramis replied. Porthos smiled at him.

“You don't have to contain me, Sire,” Porthos said, pausing at the bedroom door.

“I know. I just like to,” Aramis replied. Porthos leaned out the door.

“It's ten, Sire,” he called back into the bedroom.

It had been a great expense for the two of them to afford a clock in their apartments but it had been worth it. In the past they'd both been very early risers, always making it to the yard before seven. Since moving in together in April, they'd splashed out on a few home comforts. Pooling their incomes had meant they were able to afford the entire top floor of a home where a travelling merchant lived. This meant they had a lot of freedom as their landlord was often away.

The main door from the street led into a tiny hallway with a single locked door leading into the merchant's home and a flight of stairs. The entrance to their apartments was the only door at the top of the stairs and opened into the main chamber. Against the same wall as the door was their fireplace, in front of which their two sturdy armchairs sat. These Porthos had insisted on. There was also a large luscious rug between the chairs and the fire. Aramis had made it a house rule for them both and any visitors that boots were to be removed before stepping on this rug.

To the left of the entrance was a solid wall with an archway. It led into a very small kitchen.

Moving round the wall of the main chamber, the door directly opposite the entrance led to a small second bedroom. In it was simply a single bed with a window above it and a small wardrobe, which contained Porthos' clothes. This bedroom they kept only for show but had decided to keep their chamberpots and a second wash basin in it instead of in the main chamber. The window was directly above the street's latrine so it worked well.

Next to that was the bedroom they shared. It was much larger with a wardrobe for Aramis' things and a wash basin against the left wall. Their large bed, brought across from Aramis' former home, was pushed against the long wall opposite the door underneath a wide window, which they kept shuttered. They'd also put a small end table beside the headboard. On the right wall was a second small window. Aramis had gotten them quite a small bureau that was under the window. Porthos had bought a beautiful rich cloth for the bureau and dedicated it as an altar for Aramis. Beside this, in the corner of the room was a plain wooden chair.

Returning to the main chamber, there was also a sturdy well battered table. They had managed to source four chairs for the table, though they were all mismatched. In the corner of the room beside the fireplace was another, larger bureau on which Aramis had placed the clock they'd bought together.

Porthos stuck his head back into the bedroom and smiled at Aramis.

“Mind if I step next door to wash up, Sire?” he asked. He blinked in surprise when a look he associated with incoming pain crossed Aramis' face.

“Excellent suggestion, my love,” Aramis said silkily.

“Sire?” asked Porthos uncertainly.

“Excellent suggestion of a new protocol. Check with me before stepping into our littlest room, please,” Aramis said, stretching again. Porthos swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

“Yes, Sire,” he replied.

“Good. You may go, my love,” Aramis said smiling. Porthos flashed him a grin and disappeared.

Aramis was surprised to feel a stirring in his stomach at this new measure of control. He finally stood up and stretched. He opened the window in their bedroom and took a deep breath, enjoying the summer morning sun.

He strolled into the main chamber and spied his clothing in a heap on the floor. His face broke into a grin as he remembered Porthos holding him by the throat. He walked into the kitchen and started making some breakfast for them both. He smiled, hearing Porthos approach.

Porthos slipped his arms around Aramis' waist and kissed his neck lightly.

“I love you so much, Aramis,” he whispered. Aramis smiled and turned round in his embrace. He stroked Porthos' face and kissed him gently. “I know it's turning into quite a wet summer this year but I have never experienced warmth and sunlight like I have these past months with you in my life,” Porthos said, his voice dripping with sincerity.

Aramis smiled. Porthos was a man of few words but when he opened up like that, Aramis always found himself warmed from the inside at his words. Aramis kissed him, putting enough emotion into the kiss that Porthos felt his reply. He slid out of Porthos' arms and headed to attend to his own ablutions.

When he came back, Porthos was just dishing them porridge and Aramis stood to admire his naked form. Aramis wandered to his pile of clothes and pulled his underwear and shirt on. Porthos raised an eyebrow and Aramis shook his head. Porthos chuckled and nodded.

Aramis pulled his breeches on and settled his braces onto his shoulders. He raked his eyes up and down Porthos' body and took a seat at the table. He smiled at Porthos, who had waited for him to be seated before placing the bowls on the table and sitting down as well.

They both jumped as there was a loud knock at their door.

Aramis nodded his head towards the bedroom and Porthos obediently slipped into his fake bedroom to get dressed while Aramis answered the door.

“Athos,” said Aramis in surprise.

“Good morning,” Athos replied in his quiet voice. “May I come in?”

“Why, of course,” said Aramis, stepping back.

Athos entered their apartments and looked around curiously. Porthos entered the room from a door opposite and exchanged a look with Aramis.

“I've interrupted,” said Athos quietly, nodding his head at the hot food on the table.

“Nonsense, friend,” Aramis replied. “We have only just sat down. Would you like to join us?”

“No, thank you,” Athos said formally. “I can see my presence here is untimely. If it would be amenable to you, I will return later.”

“Sit down,” said Porthos bluntly, walking to the kitchen. Athos watched him and looked back at Aramis, who had shut the door behind him and walked to the table.

Porthos managed to serve a third small bowl of porridge out of what was left and placed it on the table opposite Aramis. Athos removed his hat and walked over. Porthos pushed the chair out for him with his foot.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly.

They ate together in a comfortable silence. Athos watched the two men curiously, watching them glance at each other, tiny changes in their expressions making it seem like they were having a whole conversation he couldn't hear. Athos cast his eye around the room, the small homey touches making him feel like he was intruding.

Athos finished first and sat watching them silently. When Aramis had finished, he put his spoon down and smiled brightly at Athos.

“What brings you here, Athos? Not that we mind the visit, that is,” Aramis said kindly. Athos watched Porthos and Aramis exchange another glance and Porthos gathered their dishes and removed them to the kitchen. Athos made to stand and Aramis gestured for him to stay seated.

“I was going to ask for a favour from you both, actually,” he said quietly.

“We're all ears,” said Aramis lightly.

“Please tell me the moment I begin to outstay my welcome or what I ask becomes impertinent,” Athos said.

“What you ask?” said Porthos warily, rejoining them. Athos watched with interest as the two men exchanged another glance.

“Peace, Porthos,” Aramis said softly. “Athos, I understand your...” he paused. Athos' eyes caught a tiny flicker of movement in Porthos' hand and saw Aramis notice as well.

“your curiosity,” Aramis continued, his tone gentle. “I understand it, given the timing of when you joined the regiment. I decline, however, to go into detail.”

Athos watched the pair in silence, noticing Porthos had tensed.

“That's not what I wanted to ask about. I, too, understand the necessity to bury one's past,” Athos replied softly. Porthos relaxed slightly, content Athos was not here to upset Aramis. He exchanged a confused look with Aramis at how Athos seemed to be staring into space.

“Athos?” asked Aramis gently.

“I apologise, gentlemen. I wanted to ask your assistance. I wish to fulfil my duty as a King's Musketeer with excellence and devotion. I feel I am a competent swordsman-”

Porthos snorted and Athos stopped immediately.

“You're more than competent, friend. You must know that,” said Aramis, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Perhaps,” agreed Athos begrudgingly. “I do not, however, feel I am as strong in other disciplines such as wrestling and shooting. I asked a few people who were the best people to learn from and your names came up respectively.”

There was a slightly stunned silence. Athos made to stand up.

“I apologise if I have offended you,” he said awkwardly.

“Goodness, friend. You have been trying to leave as soon as you got here. Why visit if you're going to try and jump out the window constantly?” Aramis said, exasperated.

Athos paused, halfway through standing.

“What did you have in mind?” asked Porthos, grinning broadly

 


	4. Furnishing the home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life at home continues

Athos felt the air whoosh out of him as, once again, Porthos had dropped him onto the floor. He heard Aramis' chuckling and took Porthos' outstretched hand.

“You aren't aggressive enough,” said Porthos, running his hand over his bandanna.

“Your reach is longer. My advantage is in agility and speed,” Athos said, frowning.

“With a sword, yeah. You only need one quick strike with a sword in the right place. You aren't going to knock someone out with quick jabs under their arms. You don't strike me as a coward,” Porthos said, tilting his head.

Athos stiffened.

“If you're too afraid to get up in my face and bring the fight to me, you're never going to land a punch. So come on, then. Bring it,” Porthos said, grinning. Athos narrowed his eyes.

  
  


“You shoot accurately enough when you're still but you take a while to line up a shot. I think that's where you have the most room for improvement. Lining up and taking the shot quickly. I suggest you stand with your back to the target and give yourself only seconds to take the shot once you've turned,” Aramis coached, watching Athos line up his shot.

Athos nodded without responding and reloaded his pistol. Porthos was sat on the bench at Athos' side, leaning back against the table. Aramis was perched on the table next to him, leaning forwards and watching Athos carefully.

Athos turned his back on the target and took a deep breath. He spun round and closed one eye. He fired quickly but frowned as the ball barely grazed the side of the target. Aramis hopped off the table and approached.

“Don't close your eye,” he said.

“It makes it easier to focus after I've moved,” Athos explained, reloading.

“That's what you need to work on, then,” Aramis replied. “You need to be able to identify and hit your target in seconds.”

“We rarely shoot on the move, though. I'm fine from horseback, which is the only time we really shoot without lining up a shot.”

“You can't guarantee that.”

“That's not how I fight. I shoot, using surprise, then move to swords.”

“That's not how it works all the time. Yes, that's ideal. I do much the same. One shot with my musket, one with my pistol, then onto swords. Porthos does the same with his. You can't bank on that, though. What if you're ambushed?”

Athos opened his mouth to reply but saw Aramis had frozen. Porthos was up and at his side in seconds. Aramis flicked his eyes sideways to meet Porthos'. Whatever he saw there was enough.

“When you're ambushed, you need to be able to take out at least one person as they approach. That is what your pistol is for,” he said firmly. “Again.”

  
  


After a few hours, the two Musketeers walked back to their apartments arm in arm.

“You seem happier,” Porthos observed.

“I am! You were right, my friend. Spending the day doing normal activities has made me feel like I'm getting back to normal.”

“What do you think of Athos?”

“Hmm,” said Aramis thoughtfully. "Tough nut to crack. He doesn't seem particularly warm but I have enjoyed working with him the last couple of months. He's very dedicated. Did you see how he reacted to that land owner last week?”

“I did. Doesn't tolerate injustice.”

“Seems a bit surly, though,” Aramis murmured.

“Bitter,” said Porthos shrewdly. “I think something has happened to him recently that's made him throw his old life away entirely.”

“Do you think so? I suppose that would explain why he's quite so determined to spend his entire weekend off at the garrison training,” Aramis said.

“It's why I worked so hard in the infantry. I was running away from the Court and was determined to make sure I never had to go back. You, too. You ran from the priesthood and made sure you were indispensable in the military,” Porthos pointed out.

“So you're saying that he's making the Musketeers his entire life?” asked Aramis, following Porthos up the stairs to their apartments.

Porthos nodded and unlocked their door, holding it open for Aramis.

“Do you think that's healthy?” Aramis asked slowly.

“Probably not,” Porthos answered, taking Aramis' hat, removing his own and hanging them both by the door.

Porthos removed his pistols and lay them on one of the chairs. Aramis added his to the pile. He hadn't bothered taking his arquebus to the yard. He handed Porthos his sword belt and walked to the kitchen, shedding his belt and sash as he went. Porthos followed, picking up behind him.

Aramis removed his coat and handed it to Porthos who was looking resigned.

“What?” he asked.

“We need a stand for these. The floor is not an appropriate place to put your... well your anything,” Porthos pointed out.

“Ok. We'll go and get one, then,” He held his hand out for his coat.

“I didn't mean...” Porthos began and trailed off.

“No, you're right, my love,” Aramis said firmly. “This is **our** home. If you would like a certain place for our belts and coats, we'll get one. You insisted on the bedside table and it's worked well. I trust you enough that if you feel having a place to hang our coats and belts will improve then I will go with it.”

Porthos beamed at the approval and handed Aramis his coat.

“You are wrong, though,” Aramis continued after a few minutes, wrapping his sash round him. He did his belt up and watched the frown form on Porthos' face.

“The floor is an excellent place to put you,” he added, holding his hand for his sword belt.

  
  


“I don't like them there,” pouted Aramis.

“They make more sense over there. You're never going to walk across to the window to put your coat and sash down. You'll just do what you do now and throw it on the table or floor,” Porthos muttered. He picked the pair of contentious stands up and moved them back to the wall between the second bedroom and the kitchen.

“I don't like it,” said Aramis from his seat at the table.

“At least if they're here,” Porthos continued, ignoring Aramis' comment. “You might occasionally use it. It's close enough to the door, there's enough hooks for your powder case, the ring there for walking canes will even hold your arquebus so you don't have to prop it against the wall. We can put our cloaks on the second one, even our rain ones so you don't have to go hunting for it every time it's raining. Or we can have one each. We could use these hooks for our swords, even.”

“OK! OK! You win!” Aramis said laughing. He held his hands up. “I surrender, my love. I surrender!”

Porthos beamed at him and turned them this way and that. Aramis watched, amused, as he loaded one of them up with Aramis' arquebus and all its paraphernalia.

“So about Athos,” Aramis said, continuing their earlier conversation.

“Yeah?”

“Do we think it's healthy that he is cutting out all the other parts of his life?”

“I don't. I struggled in the infantry. The only thing I had in my life was the risk of dying. At least in the Musketeers I found brotherhood,” Porthos said, still admiring his stands and adjusting things.

“Brotherhood,” Aramis said thoughtfully. “What do we have for dinner that we could invite him to?”

Porthos frowned.

“I'm not sure. I suppose I could get together a stew but I need to go and get some meat for it,” Porthos answered.

“Let's do that. We'll invite Athos round. He seemed so uncomfortable breaking bread with us this morning. I think we need to make sure there's something else in the Musketeers for him rather than just work.”

“Do you want any lunch? I know it's a bit late but we both snacked at the yard earlier,” Porthos asked, turning the stands again.

“I don't think so. That was enough,” Aramis said, watching Porthos affectionately.

“I'm going to dig out our rain cloaks,” said Porthos tilting his head at the empty stand. He paused and Aramis raised his eyebrows.

“Spirit of the law or letter, Sire?”

“Hmm?”

“The rule you put in place this morning. Is it the spirit of asking permission to... evacuate... or the letter of stepping into the room?” Porthos asked uncertainly. Aramis was pleased to note there was no shame in his question, just a hint of embarrassment.

“Hmm,” said Aramis, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out. “Let's say both. Let's say it's two rules. One for evacuation, whenever possible. At home and elsewhere. You and I both know you don't need words to ask me things.”

Porthos nodded.

“And the second, Sire?” Porthos asked.

“You don't leave my side without asking,” Aramis said.

Porthos smiled softly.

“Yes, Sire. May I have specifics?”

Aramis beamed at his acceptance and pointed at the floor at his feet. Porthos kneeled obediently. Aramis leaned forwards and smiled at him.

“It'll be trial and error a little, I think, my love. Let's say that when we're on duty, you only need to make me aware you're leaving the area we're in, if I don't already know. Neither of us want home us to bleed into work us,” he said quietly. Porthos gazed up at him and nodded.

“Let's say that for any time we're out of the house, actually,” Aramis added. “We're both busy people with different demands on our time. I'm to be told, though. Understand?”

Porthos nodded fervently.

“Yes, Sire.”

“As far as home goes, you are to remain within two paces of me at all times unless you ask. If you are already further away and need to leave the room, you ask. Know this, lover. I will usually want to know reasons you're moving away from me and I might not always say yes.”

“Yes, Sire,” Porthos replied.

“Also, if you tell me you need to step away to do something, I expect you to do that and return. I don't expect you to do other things as well. Understand, my darling?”

Porthos pouted playfully. Aramis laughed.

“You can give vague reasons, lover,” he said gently. “They might not all be accepted but something like 'May I go and tidy up' gives you a lot more freedom.”

“I don't want freedom from you, love,” Porthos replied softly.

Aramis leaned forward a few inches and kissed Porthos tenderly.

“I know, my beautiful Porthos,” he said. “This is good for us both. I get to reach you when I need you. Sorry... When I want you,” he added, grinning. “And you get kept on a lovely short leash.”

Aramis gently ran his hand over Porthos' bandanna, watching him close his eyes out of instinct.

“Porthos. No matter how crazy life gets, no matter how close we come to death, no matter what else happens in life, no matter who else either of us sleeps with, no matter what happens, I want us to remember this moment.”

Porthos opened his eyes as Aramis tugged his bandanna off gently.

“Sire?” he asked softly, looking up at Aramis.

“This is life. We have our own home. We have each other. We have our whole lives ahead of us. This moment, right here,” he said quietly, running his hands through Porthos' curls.

Porthos leaned forward into his hands and closed his eyes again.

“I love you, Aramis,” he said.

They remained like that for several minutes, Porthos on his knees leaning quietly into Aramis' hands.

“OK then,” said Aramis finally. “You go and get whatever you need for supper and I'll find Athos to tell him to come over.”

Porthos stood and shook his legs out. He held his hand out and pulled Aramis gently to his feet.

“Fetch my coat from its lovely new stand, then,” he said grinning. He smiled at the pause in Porthos' step. “Following instructions is fine, beautiful,” he said wickedly. Porthos chuckled and retrieved Aramis' belongings.

Porthos couldn't resist kissing the back of Aramis' neck as he helped him on with his coat and wrapped his arms around him from behind. Aramis made to pull away and Porthos pulled him back and nuzzled into his neck.

“Oh my,” Aramis murmured. “Still turned on?”

“Someone keeps tormenting me, Sire,” Porthos rumbled into his neck. “He walks around being all sexy and amazing. He has the most delicious throat and neck you've ever seen.”

Aramis smiled, letting his head fall back onto Porthos' shoulder, gasping as Porthos nibbled lightly at the sensitive spot below his ear.

“You should hear the delicious noise he makes if you bite him, Sire,” Porthos whispered.

“Oh?” said, Aramis, reaching between them and fondling Porthos through his breeches. He was unsurprised to find the leather already stretched taut across Porthos' arousal.

“Mhmm,” murmured Porthos, kissing down Aramis' neck and back up. He swiped his tongue firmly over Aramis' sensitive pulse point and felt him shiver.

“What noise is that, lover?” Aramis asked.

“You have to hear it to believe it, Sire,” Porthos breathed into Aramis' ear.

Aramis twisted in Porthos' arms and arched his back, pressing his body against Porthos in the way he knew drove his lover wild.

“If you don't make good on your threats soon, my love, I will definitely make good on mine,” said Aramis fixing Porthos' gaze.

“Oh? What threat of yours, love?” asked Porthos, smirking.

Aramis gripped Porthos painfully hard through his breeches. Porthos gasped in pain and instinctively tried to pull away. Aramis gripped harder and harder until Porthos stopped moving, his eyes watering.

“That threat,” hissed Aramis warningly. “I will make sure you never **ever** feel release again.”

Porthos growled, deep in his chest, and rapidly clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides.

Aramis let go and gently stroked over Porthos' groin, soothingly. Porthos laughed breathlessly and rested his forehead on Aramis' shoulder.

He turned his head to the side and gently bit down on the sensitive skin under Aramis' ear. Aramis moaned happily and shuddered against Porthos. Porthos' arms came up around Aramis tightly, pressing them together.

Porthos lifted his head and kissed the faint bite mark softly. Aramis sighed and gently extracted himself from Porthos' embrace.

They quickly got their belongings together. On the way down the stairs, Aramis turned back to Porthos.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he said. Porthos raised an eyebrow.

“Sire?”

“It completely slipped my mind to tell you. When we get back, before you cook supper, I'm going to fuck you like I own you,” he said calmly. Porthos blinked and swallowed hard.

“Yes, Sire,” he said, still feeling the ache from Aramis' brutal fucking the previous night.

Aramis resumed walking down the stairs. After another few steps, he stopped again.

“Oh also, lover. When Athos leaves tonight, I'm going to fuck you again and I'm going to cut my mark into you.”

Aramis swaggered down the steps and out into the street.

 


	5. True love is true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis learns how to love Porthos

Athos watched the two men moving around the tiny kitchen curiously. As he watched them sharing unspoken private jokes he realised what it was that was making him uncomfortable. It was the warmth.

He'd felt it this morning when he'd joined them for breakfast. They were transparent, open, welcoming. Sat now, he saw it clear as day. Looking around the room he saw the small touches that made their apartments a home.

He was broken from his thoughts as the two men approached. Aramis sauntered over carrying a bottle of wine and three glasses. Porthos followed behind balancing three bowls of soup. Athos watched Aramis pouring the wine and found himself curious when he nodded at Porthos, who returned to the kitchen to retrieve bread.

“Might I ask you gentlemen a question?” asked Athos formally, as Porthos sat down.

“Of course, my friend,” answered Aramis with a smile.

“Why did you invite me here?”

Porthos chuckled. Aramis kicked him under the table, making his movement intentionally obvious. Athos smiled slightly.

“To make that happen,” Aramis replied.

“So you could kick Porthos?” Athos asked, still smiling.

“To make you smile,” Aramis said kindly.

The three men fell comfortably quiet, eating their stew. As they all finished, Aramis rose to his feet, shaking the empty bottle of wine. Porthos quickly scooped up their plates and bowls and followed him to the kitchen. Athos watched them with interest.

Porthos clapped Athos on the shoulder as they sat back down. Aramis poured more wine.

“In truth, Athos, we're worried about you,” said Aramis, leaning back in his chair. Athos looked at him curiously.

“Cards on the table, Athos,” Porthos interjected. “We both joined the military to escape lives we didn't like and couldn't cope with. In the Musketeers, however, we found brotherhood and genuine friendship. We think you're here for the same reason but we want you to find the same.”

There was a long pause as Athos' face tightened.

“We 'ain't gonna pry,” Porthos said. “We all have demons.”

Athos tilted his head sceptically.

“We won't, friend,” Aramis confirmed.

Athos relaxed, his frown smoothing out, and nodded.

“I am touched, gentlemen. I look forward to working at your sides,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. The two men rose with him.

“Porthos, why don't you clear the glasses while I see Athos to the door?”

Porthos smiled and followed the instruction. He stood in the kitchen and heard the front door click. As he heard Athos' footsteps retreating down the stairs, he felt butterflies forming in his stomach.

Aramis' arms slipped round his waist and he felt his chin rest on his shoulder.

“You're trembling, lover,” whispered Aramis into his ear.

“I'm still very very sore, Sire,” admitted Porthos. Aramis had been particularly rough this afternoon before Athos had come over, to the point Porthos was sure he'd have bruises on his hips.

“I bet you are, my love. I like that thought. I like you being in pain for me,” Aramis murmured silkily.

Porthos groaned softly, feeling himself harden rapidly. Aramis' hands slipped down and unlaced his breeches. Porthos groaned again feeling Aramis' warm fingers touching him lightly through the thin fabric.

“You're very hard very soon, lover,” Aramis breathed.

“I'm very turned on, Sire,” Porthos moaned. “You have been keeping me so on edge. Every little touch from you makes me desperate.”

“Are you made more desperate because you know you can't do anything about it, lover?”

“Yes, Sire,”

“Are you made upset by the fact that I make such use of you and never allow you release?” Aramis asked, continuing his feather light touches.

“No, Sire,” Porthos answered honestly.

“Is that because your desires and wants aren't as important as mine?”

“Yes, Sire,” groaned Porthos.

“On your knees,” Aramis whispered.

Porthos slid to his knees obediently. Aramis walked back to the table, listening to Porthos crawling behind him. Aramis sat down and surveyed Porthos.

“Stand and strip,” he said.

Porthos rose and quickly removed his clothes. He felt a lurch of arousal when he straightened up from removing his small-clothes to see Aramis' eyes hooded with lust. He gathered his clothes up and placed them on a second chair, tucking his boots neatly under the table. He sank back to his knees at Aramis' feet and knelt quietly.

Aramis leaned back in his chair and gently rested his booted foot on Porthos' bare thigh. Porthos smiled and removed Aramis' boots, chuckling softly as Aramis' foot kept brushing across his achingly hard cock. Every time Aramis gasped dramatically and swore it was an accident. Every one of the ten or so times he did it.

Aramis stood up, watching Porthos shiver. He remembered what Porthos had said about feeling vulnerable when Aramis was dressed and he was bare. Aramis crouched down and, sure enough, Porthos' eyes were full of excited uncertainty. Aramis stroked his face gently. Porthos leaned into it out of instinct. Aramis felt his heart melt.

Aramis had intended this to be a day of making Porthos realise that their owner/property relationship was fundamental and he'd been taking a very brutal approach. He wondered if that was right. They were passionate people and they both absolutely adored some pain with their sex, no matter which way round they were playing. They did, however, love each other. His desire to control and to own Porthos came from a romantic place, not a cruel one. Hadn't Porthos himself said that? That the way Aramis owned him was incomparable to the way slave owners owned theirs?

Aramis drew Porthos' face to his and kissed him slowly.

Porthos blinked in surprise and kissed Aramis eagerly.

“Shh,” Aramis whispered against him mouth. “Let me take what's mine.”

Aramis smiled against his lover's lips, feeling Porthos relax against him. He kissed Porthos leisurely. There was no urgency, no demand, no hint of violence. He nibbled gently at his lips, slowly massaged Porthos' tongue with his own, kissed and kissed his lips until they were both sighing softly against each other.

Aramis gently broke the kiss, smiling as Porthos leaned forwards to follow him.

“I love you, Porthos,” Aramis said softly, stroking his scar with his fingertip. When Porthos opened his mouth to respond, Aramis lay his finger across his lips, hushing him. He raised his eyebrow and Porthos nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Aramis stood and pushed his chair under the table. He circled Porthos.

“Up on your knees,” he said. Porthos raised his bottom up off his heels and held himself with his thighs straight.

“Good boy. We'll call this 'kneel up', OK?” Aramis smiled, watching Porthos nod, his gaze still on the floor.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, sighing. He reached his hand out and Porthos took it with a smile. Aramis pulled him to his feet and kissed him again. He murmured approvingly as Porthos stayed passive but welcoming.

“Undress me,” Aramis said huskily, breaking the kiss again.

Porthos licked his lips unconsciously, bringing a smile to Aramis' face. Porthos' movements were quick and efficient but incredibly gentle. Aramis was pleased that Porthos had read his mood and wasn't making it at all lascivious. Porthos dropped to his knees to remove Aramis' breeches and under-clothes and remained there after leaning over to put them on top of the pile of their clothes.

Aramis stroked his hair gently and Porthos again leaned into the gesture, nuzzling his hand.

Aramis walked slowly into the bedroom, not rushing Porthos who was crawling behind him on the hard floor. Entering their bedroom, Aramis tapped the bed. Porthos climbed up and Aramis' lips twitched into a smile as Porthos couldn't resist smoothing the sheet as he lay down on his side, facing Aramis. Aramis stretched out beside Porthos and kissed him again. Porthos hummed softly and cut the noise off halfway through. Aramis chuckled.

“I think happy little moans are fine, lover,” Aramis said softly. Porthos smiled and lifted his hand to brush the hair out of Aramis' eyes.

Aramis gently caught his wrist and guided it back to his side.

“Moving's not fine, my love,” he whispered and smiled at Porthos. He nuzzled his nose and mouth along the line of Porthos' jaw, inhaling the scent of the man he loved. He heard Porthos exhale slowly.

“Don't be nervous, my darling,” he murmured into Porthos' ear. “Last night I told you I wasn't making love to you. Tonight I am,”

Aramis gently stroked Porthos' cheek and tugged his head round slightly to gaze at him. He kissed Porthos' forehead.

“Touch me, Porthos,” he murmured. Aramis dipped his head to kiss Porthos. He moaned softly as he felt the strong, warm hand of his lover cup him lightly. Aramis sighed and felt himself floating. Porthos' hand was gently stroking him along to hardness and he couldn't take his eyes off those rich, brown ones gazing up at him.

Porthos bit his lip and felt slightly unsure. His experiences so far with Aramis had been either loving or dominating. Porthos found himself lost with both. His butterflies were turning into bats and he felt his eyes filling with moisture.

"Lover?" 

"You are the best thing that's ever been mine, Sire," Porthos said around the lump in his throat. Aramis sighed contentedly as he reached full hardness and Porthos' familiar hand began to stroke him slowly.

"Porthos. I need you to know something. I love you more than time and more than the stars above. Ever since you walked right in, the circle’s been complete. I've said goodbye to haunted dreams of love I didn't fulfil. I have loved you for years. Today, with you here, obediently under my hands, willingly gifting your life to me, I love you more than ever and I haven’t yet begun. When I was hurting, you dried the tears up from my dreams and pulled me from darkness. You have quenched my thirst and satisfied the burning in my soul,"

Aramis kissed Porthos softly as tears began to trickle from his eyes. He felt Porthos' hand trembling on his cock and he thrust gently to remind him. Porthos resumed stroking Aramis.

"Happiness to me is you and I love you more than blood. I love you with a love that doesn't bend, and if there is eternity I’d love you there again. I feel it whenever you look at me, Porthos. You’re the other half of what I am. Just being next to you is a natural thing for me and I could never let you go, no matter what goes on. You're mine Porthos. You are my property and I love you. Do you understand me, Porthos?"

Porthos nodded tearfully.

"Good. Now onto your back please, my love,"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Years ago someone I loved more than life itself sang me Wedding Song by Bob Dylan and I remember knowing for the first time what love really was. Since Porthos is feeling in this chapter what I felt in that moment, I borrowed the great Mr Dylan's work for this chapter. Full credit to him, not me.
> 
> (And Taylor Swift by accident)


	6. To possess is to love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis shows Porthos how loving ownership can be.

Porthos rolled onto his back and, at Aramis' nudges, shuffled into the centre of the bed. Aramis tenderly kissed the tears on Porthos' face. He felt Porthos shudder slightly and smiled. He lifted his head.

“May I speak, Sire?” asked Porthos huskily. Aramis considered him for a moment.

“Briefly,” he said quietly.

“I understand you love me and I understand that you own me,” Porthos said slowly, swallowing hard and choosing his words with care. “I serve and give myself to you because I love you. Now... Now I understand that you own me **because** you love me.”

Aramis nodded.

“I just... I just wanted to say thank you, Sire,” Porthos said in a small voice. Aramis laid his finger across Porthos' lips again and felt him smile.

“Not necessary, beautiful boy,” said Aramis quietly. “Back to work please,”

Porthos smiled and resumed his gentle stroking of Aramis' length. Aramis hummed comfortably. He leaned over Porthos and arranged their pillows. He slid two under Porthos' head, causing it to tilt up slightly. He tapped Porthos' hip and when he raised his bottom, Aramis slid two more under his bottom, tilting that up, too.

He watched Porthos' eyes flicker, the familiar nerves visible. Aramis gently drew himself out of Porthos' grasp. He collected their bottle of oil and settled between Porthos' legs on his knees. Aramis leaned forwards and gently gripped Porthos' wrists. He pressed them lightly into the mattress and was pleased when Porthos nodded, understanding the message not to move.

He stroked Porthos' stomach gently, soothing him. He brushed his fingers along Porthos' thick cock and felt him lurch. He gently smoothed his hands down on his stomach, either side of his cock and ran his fingers over Porthos' sack. He gently spread Porthos' cheeks and shuffled forwards, his thighs and waist spreading Porthos' legs. It also served to tilt his bottom up further.

Aramis stroked his fingers over Porthos' entrance and felt him shiver.

“Still tender, my love?” asked Aramis silkily. Porthos nodded. Aramis dripped a small amount of oil onto his hand and slowly slid his index finger into Porthos. The darker man hissed in pain as Aramis' finger rubbed against the sore skin. Aramis leaned forward, the change in position, exposing Porthos even more.

“Do you feel that, Porthos? Do you feel how little resistance you give me? How well used you are?” Aramis said quietly, locking his eyes with Porthos'. Porthos nodded.

Aramis withdrew his finger and added a second, sliding them all the way in. Porthos' eyes fluttered closed.

“Nuh-uh. Eyes open, my love,” Aramis said quietly. Porthos forced his eyes open and met Aramis'.

Aramis began to move his fingers in and out slowly. Porthos groaned softly, his muscles protesting at being forced apart yet again.

Aramis added a third finger and groaned himself at how easily Porthos' entrance spread for him. They gazed into each other's eyes for long minutes, both concentrating on Aramis moving his three fingers in and out of Porthos.

Porthos felt himself get lost in Aramis. He sank into the mattress, his hands relaxed at his sides.

Aramis added more oil and began to twist his fingers on each stroke. Porthos groaned again, the sound rumbling through his chest. Porthos bore down on Aramis' hand, silently begging him for more with his eyes.

Aramis smiled and inclined his head. He slipped his little finger in as well and Porthos arched his back, causing his hips and head to raise. Aramis followed his hips with his hand, not letting him get away even an inch. He lost sight of Porthos' eyes with the move.

“Come back to me, love,” he murmured. Porthos obediently settled back down, his eyes finding Aramis'. He felt Aramis still his hand inside him and was grateful for the time. He panted slightly, struggling to keep calm with the overwhelming feeling of fullness. Porthos felt his cock throbbing even more, the new sharp stretching pain making him feel on fire.

Aramis moaned, gazing into Porthos' eyes. He watched the flickers of pain and arousal pass over Porthos' beautiful scarred face. The love and devotion in his eyes were constant, steady and unmissable.

Slowly, Aramis began to move his hand, eliciting groans from him constantly. He saw the thin sheen of sweat forming on Porthos' face and started twisting and flattening his fingers, feeling the tension leaving Porthos' sore muscles, feeling his body surrender to him, despite the pain. Porthos' hisses and whimpers were driving him mad. Finally Aramis couldn't take it any longer.

Porthos groaned loudly as Aramis removed his hand and slid his cock home in one smooth motion. His eyes fluttered again.

“No, no, Porthos. You're mine, love. Stay with me. Stay with me, lover,” Aramis gasped, feeling Porthos clench around him. Porthos groaned again, locking eyes with Aramis.

Aramis smiled at him and Porthos felt a warmth in his stomach radiating out. The first time he saw Aramis smile all those years ago flashed through his mind. The morning he smiled at him after their first kiss. The way he smiled when he kissed his hand that night. The smile on his face every time they woke up together. The smile on his face now. He was everything.

Aramis leaned forwards, bracing his weight on his hands either side of Porthos and began to thrust slowly into him. He moaned in delight, feeling Porthos utterly surrendered beneath him. He didn't take his eyes off Porthos for a second, finding the same acceptance and love in him today that he'd seen every day these past years.

He watched curiously as a desperate pleading passed over Porthos' face.

“What is it, my darling? What would you like?” Aramis asked quietly, continuing his calm thrusting.

“Kiss me, Sire, please,” he whispered.

“No, love. I want to see you. I want to watch you,” Aramis answered, continuing to move inside Porthos. Porthos nodded and gasped as Aramis picked up the speed slightly.

Aramis moaned indulgently, listening to Porthos' chest rumbling. He was amazed at how quickly he felt his release coming. He'd always prided himself on his stamina and yet for the third time in twenty four hours, he felt his stomach tightening and sweat forming.

Porthos watched Aramis' face and longed to kiss him, to wrap his arms around him. He found himself panting as Aramis continued to thrust in and out of him relentlessly.

Aramis panted with him. As he found himself tightening all over, he dropped his head and kissed Porthos hard, crushing his lips beneath his own. He moaned loudly against Porthos' mouth, listening to him whimper as Aramis finally emptied deep inside him.

Aramis pressed his forehead against Porthos' as his orgasm rippled through him to his toes and back up to his fingertips. Porthos panted along with him, shuddering desperately beneath his master.

After a long moment, Aramis finally felt his arms give out under him and he collapsed onto Porthos, pressing his head against his lover's shoulder. They moaned in unison as Aramis gently withdrew from him. Aramis sagged against Porthos' body and Porthos shuddered, writhing involuntarily. Aramis laughed and rolled himself to the side.

“I apologise,” Aramis said laughing. “I don't mean for my closeness to upset you!”

Porthos chuckled in response and rolled his head to the side. Aramis smiled at him.

“What is it, love?”

Porthos raised his eyebrows. Aramis nodded warmly. Porthos reached his arms out and tugged Aramis back on top of him. Aramis stretched like a cat and relaxed himself along the length of Porthos' body, feeling Porthos' still hard cock pressed between their stomachs.

Porthos ran his hands up and down Aramis' back, settling one on the back of his head and running his fingers through his hair.

“I'm not going to be granting you any sort of release my love so if having me draped across you is too much, let me know,” Aramis mumbled into Porthos' neck.

Porthos pressed a kiss into Aramis' hair and continued to hold him, stroking long movements along his back. After an immeasurable amount of time, he felt Aramis go heavy in his arms and recognised the pattern of his breathing change to signal he was falling asleep.

Porthos very gently rolled to the side, carrying Aramis with him. He glanced at Aramis' face and saw him smile. Aramis stretched again and pulled himself close into Porthos embrace.

“Good night, my beautiful boy,” he murmured sleepily.

“Good night, Sire,” Porthos whispered in reply.

 


	7. The honeymoon is over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Musketeers hit a bump in the road.

Aramis woke up slowly, listening to the noise in the street below. He was burrowed into Porthos' chest and felt Porthos' heavy arm across his waist. He woke up really needing the pot but didn't have the heart to move Porthos. He stayed there for a few minutes, cradled tightly by the strong arms. Finally he needed to move him.

“Porthos,” he murmured. Porthos grunted at him and Aramis stifled a laugh. “Porrrrthos,” he said again, higher pitched.

“Mmph,” came the grumpy reply.

“Porrrrrrrrrthos,” he said again, even higher. He laughed out loud this time as Porthos lifted his arm and playfully hit him in the back of the head.

“Porrrrrrrrrrrrr-” he began again and stopped when Porthos groaned and rolled away from Aramis onto his back. Aramis patted his stomach gently and slipped out of bed.

It was still very early but he found himself full of energy. He paused in the kitchen to get some drinking water from the supply they kept. He laughed again hearing Porthos' rumbling snore coming from the bedroom.

He located their piles of clothes from the night before and got dressed quietly. As he was about to pull his boots on he heard the snoring stop suddenly. He waited a few seconds and, sure enough, Porthos appeared in the bedroom doorway looking confused.

“You were gone,” he said accusingly.

“I didn't go far,” chuckled Aramis.

“But I was... you were... I was alone,” Porthos said quietly. Aramis frowned.

“I didn't go anywhere,” he said patiently.

“You did. I woke up and you were gone. I thought you'd left. Left, left,” he said, gesturing at the door.

“Left, left?”

“Left. You shouldn't have gone. I thought...” he trailed off.

“I'm right here, Porthos,” said Aramis, getting annoyed.

Porthos sighed angrily and stomped over to pick up his clothes.

“And who said you could get dressed?” enquired Aramis haughtily.

“Who said I couldn't?” Porthos snapped back.

They glared at each other for a few seconds. Porthos dug his small-clothes and shirt out from the pile. Aramis narrowed his eyes.

“What?” said Porthos obnoxiously. Aramis simply raised one eyebrow and flicked his gaze to the clothes in his hands and back to Porthos' eyes.

“Spit it out, then,” Porthos growled.

“I shouldn't have to,” Aramis answered, a note of warning in his voice.

“I'm not a bloody mind reader,” Porthos spat.

Aramis was on his feet in seconds. In bare feet, Porthos was taller than him by only a few inches but it was enough that Porthos was able to avoid his eyes and stare into the distance. Nobody could do stoic like Porthos. Aramis stood less than an inch from Porthos.

“You listen to me, boy,” hissed Aramis. “If you are upset by something, you tell me. You do not act like a fucking child and sulk. Obviously something about my getting up before you has upset you. I am sorry for that. You need to tell me, though.”

He searched Porthos' face and got no response.

“You do not, however, get to stomp around and play one up games with me. I don't expect you to read my mind but I do expect you to be intelligent enough to understand my intent. You know full well I meant to stop you getting dressed, don't you?” Aramis said, keeping his voice low and urgent.

Porthos clenched his jaw.

“Stop this, Porthos. You don't get to pull this kind of thing with me any more. No more of this hiding emotions thing. You are to be completely transparent with me or it will not work. I want this to work so there's your answer. I get what I want from you, boy. Always. Do you understand me?”

Porthos nodded stiffly.

“Good. Now put your fucking clothes down,” he snapped. He watched Porthos' jaw clench even tighter and heard him throw the garments on the floor.

“On your knees,” he said bluntly, watching the anger and defiance ripple across Porthos' face. “I didn't fucking ask,” he hissed. A last flicker of determination crossed Porthos' eyes before he slid slowly to his knees.

Aramis circled him thoughtfully. He saw the tension in the way Porthos was holding himself and debated what to do. His instincts had rarely led him wrong so followed them, nervous about whether this would work.

He clicked his fingers beside his thigh and strode purposefully towards the hearth. It took all his willpower not to look behind him but he was gratified to see, when he sat in his armchair, that Porthos had indeed crawled along behind him. He was still wearing his impassive mask, though.

Aramis clicked his fingers again and pointed between his legs. Porthos crawled obediently onto the rug and sat on his heels between Aramis' feet, as far away as possible. Aramis pointed at the floor directly in front of his chair. He found himself doubting his plan when a look of sheer mutiny crossed Porthos' scowling face. It passed, however, when Aramis saw Porthos reluctantly shuffle forwards to the spot indicated.

Aramis crossed his legs, effectively hugging Porthos with his long limbs. A shadow of doubt crossed Porthos' face and Aramis seized upon the opportunity.

“Kneel up, boy,” he said calmly, his face blank. Porthos' jaw clenched again and he rose.

Aramis leaned forward and peered calmly into Porthos' face. He tightened his legs around Porthos and watched him drop his eyes to the floor. He gave an inward sigh of relief and reached out to stroke Porthos' cheek.

Porthos felt all his anger and fear evaporate in an instant. He leaned into Aramis' hand and whimpered.

Aramis' heart wrenched at the uncharacteristic noise and stayed his hand, letting Porthos rest against it..

“Look at me,” he said softly.

Porthos flicked his eyes up to Aramis and winced. Somehow the calm determination in Aramis' expression was worse than the rush of anger he'd expressed earlier. He didn't look angry any more but Porthos felt a wave of nausea at the glimmer of disappointment.

“Why did it upset you that I wasn't there when you woke up?” Aramis asked gently.

Porthos rubbed his cheek against Aramis' hand.

“Do you **know** why it upset you, Porthos?”

“I think so,” Porthos whispered.

“Then out with it. Now,” Aramis replied quietly.

“I thought it was... that you... It didn't mean as much to you,” he said dropping his eyes. Aramis thought carefully.

“Explain further please,” Aramis said slowly.

“You told me you were going to... mark me and then didn't. And then... I... we...” Porthos swallowed nervously and fixed his eyes on the floor.

“Come on,” Aramis said firmly.

“Then I cried... You were... It was so... loving but... it didn't... you didn't mark me. I thought since you'd made it so... gentle... you didn't want the other,” Porthos said, stopping and starting. “You might be disgusted by what... by the things I still want,” he finished, just barely above a whisper.

Aramis was hit by a wave of understanding.

“Oh Porthos,” he whispered. He moved his hand and tilted Porthos' chin up. Porthos met his eyes and Aramis saw the fear of rejection in them. “Porthos, Porthos,” he murmured.

He kissed Porthos sweetly.

“I wanted to make it clear that my ownership of you came from a place of love and joy, darling. I didn't want to hurt you as well. You know I have no problem hurting you but I didn't want to confuse the moment.”

Porthos frowned in confusion. Aramis gestured encouragingly.

“It tells me you love me,” he said quietly.

“Pain?” asked Aramis carefully. “Hey, hey. No. None of that,” he added quickly, watching Porthos' shoulders tense. Porthos swallowed again.

“Sometimes, Sire," he admitted. Aramis breathed an internal sigh of relief at the honourific slipping back into his speech.

“Carry on, boy,” Aramis said softly.

“Pain is... lots of things. Sometimes it releases emotion,” Porthos said slowly.

“The monastery?”

Porthos nodded.

“Sometimes it's just plain fun. Sometimes, it's love,” he finished quietly, looking up at Aramis.

“Then I apologise, my love. I should have explained why I changed my plans.”

Porthos frowned again.

“You... I wish you hadn't,” he whispered.

“Why, darling? I... For me it would have been a deviation from the moment.”

Porthos dropped his gaze to the floor again and Aramis suddenly saw it.

“I see,” he said to himself. “Am I right in thinking you've been obsessing all night about this?” He watched as colour rose to Porthos' cheeks.

“I... I didn't sleep much, Sire,” he admitted.

“That's why you panicked when I wasn't there?”

“Yes, Sire. I... I was afraid if I fell asleep, you'd leave because you... you were over it,” Porthos said, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“Oh Porthos,” Aramis said, the disappointment in his voice felt like a knife in Porthos' stomach. “You think I chose not to hurt you because I had just been... experimenting? That my choice of making more gentle love to you was me returning to what I really wanted?”

Porthos bowed his head and felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees.

“I know you're hurting, beautiful, but that makes me incredibly angry.”

Porthos snapped his head back up and he searched Aramis' face.

“Sire, I-”

“Enough,” said Aramis, flatly.

Porthos dropped his gaze to the floor again and began to tremble, feeling Aramis' controlled anger rolling off him in waves. Aramis uncrossed his legs and stood, awkwardly stepping around Porthos, who didn't dare move a muscle.

He listened to Aramis pacing back and forth and felt a swell of nausea again. He understood suddenly and felt tears filling his eyes.

“Porthos. Do you understand why I'm so angry?”

“Yes, Sire,” Porthos said, nodding without turning around.

“Explain your understanding to me,” said Aramis, continuing to pace.

“I... I insulted you by doubting you. I... By doing so I suggested you were false when you said you genuinely wanted to hurt me. I.. I didn't tell you when I was unsettled by the change of plan. I shouted at you. I disobeyed... well... didn't obey you and I hid my feelings from you,” Porthos said quietly, tears trickling down his cheeks.

Aramis continued to pace.

“You also put your own desires above mine,” he said coldly.

“Sire, I-”

“No, Porthos. You think your error was in not telling me my change of plan upset you. You're right. However, I am entitled to change my plans whenever I like. I understand why you may have prepared yourself mentally and it was jarring that it never happened but you don't get to decide what I do. Your correct course of action was to tell me before we fell asleep that you were unsettled or accept it. You even could have woken me up when you were struggling to fall asleep,” Aramis said quickly.

Porthos continued to cry silently. He'd never felt shame with Aramis before and it made his insides feel like ice to know it was his own poor choices that had made this happen.

“Sit down, Porthos,” Aramis said, sighing.

Porthos moved to comply, untucking his legs from under him and settling on his bottom. He winced as he sat down, feeling the after effects of Aramis' treatment the day before. He felt Aramis crouch down behind him. Porthos longed to turn and look at him but wasn't sure yet that he was allowed to move. Aramis leaned close and spoke quietly into his ear.

“Feel that, Porthos? Feel how tender you are? Remembering how well used you are? How often and how thoroughly I can take you? How much you are mine? **That** is what hurt me, Porthos. You doubted that you're mine. My possession. You doubted that, Porthos. It makes me think that you're not committed to me. You're just waiting for me to give up so you can leave.”

Porthos' breath hitched as he cried, feeling utterly desolate at how much pain he'd caused Aramis.

“I'm going to make breakfast to calm down. I suggest you use the time to do the same and we will discuss this after I've eaten.”

Porthos nodded and took deep breaths, feeling Aramis walk away.

Aramis moved around the kitchen, feeling his eyes tearing up as the anger gradually fell away. He moved to the table, purposefully picking the closest seat so he didn't enter Porthos' line of vision.

He ate quickly, finding he had very little appetite. He'd only grabbed a bit of bread and cheese, using it more as a distraction than actual sustenance. He dropped his head into his hands and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, forcing himself to stay calm. Porthos needed him to be strong now.

He pulled himself to his feet and walked back to his chair. He sat down carefully, his legs either side of Porthos. Aramis was pleased to note he wasn't crying any more.

“I want you to step out for a moment, Porthos. Wash your face, attend to your needs, fetch us both some drinking water and come back. OK?”

Porthos nodded and got to his feet awkwardly. Aramis coughed slightly.

“Yes, Sire,” Porthos said.

“Better,” said Aramis kindly and saw a ghost of a smile crossing Porthos' face.

Aramis listened to Porthos moving around and took deep breaths. Porthos returned and handed him a cup of water.

“Are you OK, my boy?” he asked softly. Porthos nodded. “You may sit in your chair if you like,” he added gently.

“If it's OK with you, Sire, I'd like to return to your feet,” Porthos said calmly.

Aramis nodded, reassured. Porthos sat slowly, balancing his water cup carefully and placing it on the ground in front of him. He lifted his eyes to meet Aramis'.

“May I speak, Sire?”

“Not yet, my boy,” said Aramis softly. “I apologise for getting so angry. We're both still new at this. Our honeymoon is over and we're bound to hit bumps. I think our unique style of relationship is going to make things trickier.”

Porthos listened in silence and Aramis nodded approvingly at him.

“You hurt me by doubting my commitment to you, Porthos. I was wrong to express that as anger. I found myself using my authority over you as a way to vent. While some of the things we identified were mistakes on your part, they were simply errors. I apologise, my darling boy, for getting so angry. It was unfair.”

Aramis took a deep breath and inclined his head towards Porthos who took his own deep breath.

“Thank you for saying that, Sire. I'm so very sorry for hurting you. I don't want to make excuses but I still struggle to believe I can have everything. Not just the man I love but in the way I love him. I clung to the bruises and marks you left on me while we were away as proof and I misinterpreted your reasons for choosing not to redo it.”

Aramis leaned forward and stroked Porthos' cheek. Porthos leaned into it and smiled softly up at him.

“You can't do that, my boy,” Aramis said softly. “You can't cling to the bruises and the marks. You have to know it, lover. You have to know, deep in your soul, you belong to me. It won't work if you don't, my darling.”

Porthos nodded and nuzzled into Aramis' hand.

“I'm sorry, love,” murmured Porthos.

“I forgive you, darling. When I struggle to believe in us, I have the authority to flex my control over you and it makes me feel better. I understand that you don't have that ability,” Aramis said softly.

Porthos smiled.

“That explains the random instructions and restrictions,” Porthos replied with a smile.

“Indeed, although sometimes they're just occasional things to make myself smile,” Aramis teased. “But I have a suggestion. When you're doubting us or feeling in need of a bit of reassurance, ask me. It's not often I will decline the opportunity to hurt you, my love,” Aramis said, grinning.

Porthos turned his head to kiss Aramis' palm where it rested against his cheek.

“Now, about the swearing and choosing not to obey me,” Aramis said, dropping his hand. Porthos nodded sadly.

“What do you suggest?” Aramis asked softly. Porthos looked up in confusion.

“Sire?”

“I don't particularly want to go down the route of punishing you. It seems to me that what you're struggling with at the moment is feeling controlled and owned in a tangible sense,” he explained. Porthos nodded slowly. “I do not think it would be healthy to set a precedent where you defy me and I tighten the reins. I think it will have the accidental side effect that you will act out when you're feeling insecure.”

“No, Sire! I wouldn't,” Porthos protested.

“I don't think you would ever do it intentionally but I would like to avoid running the risk that your mind makes that connection.”

Porthos nodded in understanding.

“So what do you suggest, my love?” Aramis asked again.

“I don't know, Sire,” Porthos said honestly. “I understand what you're saying and I think it's a good idea. I am struggling, though.”

“With?”

“Guilt. I have this urge to feel the same sense of relief as you gave me at the monastery, Sire. Those two things in particular were wilful disobedience and I feel there should be consequences. I feel a knot in my stomach, knowing I did you wrong, and I don't know how to undo it without your help,” Porthos answered, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Unfortunately, my love, I think you're going to have work it through yourself. For me it's enough that you know you did wrong and I trust you not to do it again,” said Aramis gently.

Porthos nodded.

“Bed, Porthos. You need the rest, I think,” said Aramis. He held his hand out for Porthos and pulled him gently to his feet. He pulled Porthos into his arms and held him close for a few minutes. Porthos nuzzled his face into Aramis' shirt and laughed breathlessly.

“Lover?” asked Aramis.

Porthos laughed again and held Aramis tighter, the reason for his laughter making itself known against Aramis' hip.

“Would you look at that, my love? Just being this close to me does it. It's the best thing about you being naked so much of the time,” Aramis teased into his ear. He stroked Porthos' belly with his fingertips and felt him humming in his ear.

“Not a chance,” he said, laughing and stepping out of Porthos' embrace. Porthos laughed, the last of the tension leaving his body. Aramis walked backwards to the bedroom tugging gently on Porthos' hand.

Porthos climbed into bed obediently. Aramis sat on the bed beside him and stroked his cheek. Aramis smiled and saw a wave of exhaustion hit him.

“Good boy. Now,” Aramis said seriously. “I'm going out for about an hour. You won't leave this bed until I get back.”

Aramis leaned over and kissed Porthos gently.

“See you soon, my love,” he said softly.

 


	8. Moving past the road block

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis and Porthos work out how to get past their disagreement

Aramis paused at the door and heard the familiar rumbling noise. He was pleased Porthos had finally managed to sleep. He quietly moved into their home and put away the food he'd bought. He placed the other item he'd bought on the table. Aramis peeked through the bedroom door and saw Porthos sprawled on his stomach, his face pressed into Aramis' pillow. He smiled to himself and tiptoed back out to refill their water supply at the well outside.

When he returned and checked on Porthos again, he was curled up tightly, a deep frown on his face. Aramis knelt by the side of the bed and reached his hand out to stroke Porthos' cheek. Porthos leaned into his hand without waking and Aramis smiled as the frown lines on his face smoothed out. He drew his hand away slightly and chuckled as Porthos followed it, turning back onto his stomach.

Aramis stretched and gently drew the sheet off Porthos. He sat gently on the bed beside Porthos' sleeping form and tugged his boots off. He ran his hand over the smooth expanse of skin. He felt the muscles covering his broad shoulders and down over his spine. Porthos murmured something as he woke up. Aramis leaned down to kiss Porthos' neck and saw him smile.

“Hi beautiful,” he whispered into his ear. Porthos' smile widened.

“Aramis,” he breathed, without opening his eyes.

Aramis smiled and straddled the back of Porthos' thighs. He resumed gently smoothing his hands over the broad back of his lover. He began to gently dig his fingers in, massaging the sculpted muscles. Porthos rumbled his approval and Aramis laughed lightly, feeling the noise vibrate through his back and into Aramis' hands.

“I love your body, Porthos,” Aramis sighed softly, running his hands down the shape of Porthos' ribs and onto his waist. Even from behind, the line of Porthos' waist into his hips made Aramis' mouth water.

Porthos sighed comfortably, relaxing into Aramis' hands.

“I've bought you a present,” said Aramis lightly.

“Oh?”

Aramis stood up and pulled Porthos by the hand, taking him into the living room.

“Close your eyes,” he said, smiling. Porthos smiled and closed his eyes without hesitation. Aramis guided him by hand to the rug.

“Wait there, please,” he said softly. He walked back over to the table, took a deep breath and lifted the item off the table.

As he sat down in his chair, he watched Porthos lean unconsciously towards him. He leaned forward and rotated Porthos by the hips until he faced him. Aramis tapped gently on the inside of Porthos' thighs. Porthos spread his legs obediently and Aramis was pleased to note Porthos raised his arms up and out the way, folding them behind his back.

Aramis wrapped the thin leather strap around Porthos' knee, buckling it so it rested above his calf. He tightened it slightly until he could only get his little finger between the strap and Porthos' skin.

“There you go, lover,” he said quietly. “You can look.”

Porthos opened his eyes curiously and looked down. It was a very thin black leather strap, no wider than the strap on his sword belt. He looked curiously at Aramis who tugged on it. Satisfied, Aramis stood up and smiled at Porthos.

“Know what that is?” he asked gently. Porthos shook his head. “That is a reminder that no matter where you go, what you do, whoever is around, whatever we're doing and however you feel, you are mine.”

Porthos' eyes welled up immediately and he grabbed Aramis round the waist, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. Aramis moaned against him and snaked his hands up to Porthos' hair.

Their kiss was full of emotion. It was messy. It was aggressive. It was full of moans. They rubbed against each other hungrily. It was mere moments until Porthos was fully hard and rubbing himself against Aramis' breeches.

Finally Aramis bit Porthos' lip hard enough to make him cry out. He held Porthos at arm's length and they panted, naked hunger in both of their eyes.

“Bed. Now,” instructed Aramis huskily. Porthos strode quickly to the bedroom. Aramis followed, shedding his clothes carelessly as he went.

“Bed. Stomach,” Aramis said, taking deep breaths. Porthos complied, his legs shaky already.

Aramis knelt quickly back where he had been earlier. He admired the contrast of his very pale thighs straddling Porthos' muscled darker skinned ones. He took deep shuddering breaths and resumed running his hands over Porthos' back. They were much quicker movements this time, Aramis' hunger getting the better of him as his hands covered Porthos' skin in quick smooth movements.

He eventually settled his hands onto Porthos' buttocks and kneaded them firmly. He heard Porthos groan quietly and could guess why. He pressed his thumb against Porthos' entrance and heard him growl.

“Still sore, my boy?” Aramis asked quietly. Porthos nodded. Aramis leaned forward and Porthos heard him opening the bedside draw. He hissed in a breath.

“Oh yes, lover. You need to understand that no matter how much pain you're in, how tired you are, how unhappy, how exhausted... I can get what I want from you and I can't possibly look at you, spread out in front of me like this without wanting to fuck what's mine,” Aramis said softly.

Porthos shifted slightly to rest his hands either side of his head so his arms weren't caught under him and he was flat on the bed. He groaned, feeling Aramis press two oiled fingers into him. His skin burned after being so well used for the last two days. His muscles ached but he felt his stomach lurch as a feeling of ownership settled over him. Porthos felt himself yield so quickly to Aramis fingers. It might hurt still but there was no denying how easily Aramis' fingers were moving in and out of him.

“Feel that, Porthos? Feel how easily your body accepts me? Feel how little resistance your body gives me? You're mine, Porthos. You've been broken to me like a horse to the halter,” Aramis murmured, echoing Porthos' own thoughts.

Porthos felt himself sinking under Aramis' spell. He sighed into the pillow as he felt Aramis add a third finger and the sharp pain of being spread open sent a warmth up into his stomach. He hummed softly, feeling like liquid in Aramis' hands as Aramis withdrew his fingers and forced his cock suddenly into him. Porthos gasped at the pain and writhed under Aramis. He realised every time Aramis took him, he gave him less and less preparation. He felt a swell of devotion for Aramis as he realised it was simply right that Porthos' body welcomed its master.

Aramis groaned, watching Porthos barely react to the pain Aramis' cock must be causing. Porthos was simply sighing. The relaxation in his body was evident and Aramis felt a surge of hunger for him as he realised Porthos was just accepting him. He slowly withdrew his cock and used his hands to spread Porthos' firm buttocks. He watched Porthos' muscles slowly close as he left him. Aramis groaned quietly and slipped the head of his cock past the ring of accepting muscles, watching the way he spread for him. He held still for a moment and heard Porthos sigh happily.

Porthos' sigh quickly morphed into a groan as Aramis slammed into him suddenly. His hands clenched beside his head as waves of pain followed Aramis' movements as the lither man set a brutal pace. He felt raw hunger in his lover's relentless pounding.

Aramis felt a savage greed as he saw Porthos' hands clench. He knew he must be in pain as Aramis furiously thrust in and out of him at speed and yet he wasn't fighting him at all. The power made him feel light-headed and he leant over and braced his hands either side of Porthos' head. He gripped Porthos' wrists and leant his weight on his arms, freeing up his legs to increase the power behind each thrust.

Porthos felt the last shreds of control pulled from him as Aramis used his body weight and the grip of his hands to hold Porthos in place. Normally he was able to concentrate on staying in place for Aramis but being held down like this had pulled everything from him. He was utterly defenceless against the brutal fucking.

Aramis was dimly aware of Porthos' sudden whimpering and found himself spurred by the noise. He increased the assault and found himself squeezing Porthos' wrists cruelly as his legs began to give out. He noticed tears trickling from the corners of Porthos' eyes and that was all he needed. He growled loudly and savagely slammed into Porthos one last time and collapsed onto Porthos' back while he emptied himself into his lover. He gave one or two stuttering thrusts as his orgasm rippled through them both and heard Porthos' groans of pain with each movement.

Porthos felt Aramis burrowing into the back of his neck and panting against his back. Blood rushed back into his wrists as Aramis released his grip. He lay there for several minutes without moving feeling Aramis slowly coming back to normal. They moaned in unison as Aramis gently withdrew from him and fell to the side. Without a word, Porthos sat up and gently cleaned them both off.

Aramis reached out and stroked Porthos' hair, watching him clean him gently. Porthos swiped the rough cloth over Aramis' sensitive head and smiled mischievously. Aramis playfully swatted him on the back of the head.

Porthos stretched out beside Aramis and opened his arms for him but felt confused when Aramis shook his head. He smiled when Aramis pulled him down to rest his head against Aramis' sweaty chest. He nestled his body against Aramis' side and hummed happily as Aramis wrapped his arm tightly around him.

Porthos found himself suddenly breathless, the shift from such brutally painful sex to gentle cuddling was sending his senses out of control.

Aramis felt him shaking and he sat up, pulling Porthos with him. He touched his finger to the new leather strap around Porthos' knee.

“Mine,” he whispered, laying back down and hugging Porthos tightly to him.

Porthos suddenly burst into shaky tears. He began to sob heavily against Aramis' chest.

Aramis smiled and stroked his back calmly. He'd expected this. He'd thought of it while he was out. It was a way to get Porthos his catharsis after this first road block but without actually punishing him. Quite frankly, it was also brilliant fun. He smiled to himself thinking if he wasn't careful, he'd end up dehydrated.

He felt Porthos take deep shuddering breaths as he calmed down against his chest.

"Oh, Sire," Porthos breathed against his chest.

Aramis stroked Porthos' hair.

"That strap doesn't come off, Porthos. Understand?" he asked gently.

Porthos nodded earnestly and burrowed his face into Aramis. Aramis smiled and the pair of them settled down for a nap in each other's arms.


	9. Normal life resumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Musketeers finally leave their bedroom

Porthos woke and stretched comfortably. He found he had rolled over in his sleep away from Aramis. He turned his head to see Aramis hadn't moved off his back but had thrown his arm over his eyes. Porthos began to turn onto his side, ever so slowly so he didn't wake Aramis and felt the strap on his leg. He leaned down and ran his fingers over it. He was unable to stop himself grinning. He grin widened when he felt how tender he was elsewhere.

Porthos finally managed to turn onto his side, facing Aramis. He noticed tension in Aramis' body and realised he was not having pleasant dreams. Porthos pulled himself up and slid one arm under Aramis' neck. Aramis jumped badly, without actually waking, but Porthos used his other arm to pull him onto his side and press his face against his own chest. Aramis struggled in his arms for a few seconds before taking a deep, shuddering breath and relaxing in Porthos' arms.

Porthos felt him slowly wake up in his arms.

“Porthos?” he asked in confusion.

“Mornin', Sire,” Porthos replied, kissing his hair. He felt Aramis sigh. “If you apologise to me, Sire, I'm going to make you hurt like I hurt right now.”

Aramis laughed.

“You're right, my boy. It's just reflex,” Aramis said snuggling into Porthos' body.

“I understand, Sire. It is for me, too. What were you dreaming of?” he asked. When Aramis didn't reply he made a guess. “Woke up in the forest again?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Aramis answered quietly.

They lay together in quiet silence. Porthos idly stroked Aramis' back and kept pressing kisses into the waves of hair. Aramis found the strap on Porthos' leg with his knee and rubbed against it.

“Like it?” Aramis asked lightly, sounding much more like himself. Porthos drew in a sharp breath and pulled Aramis tight against him.

“I love it Sire,” he said fervently. “I love what you said about it being there no matter what we're doing and whoever is around. I assume that means I'm allowed to wear it on duty?”

“Allowed? My boy you aren't to ever take it off. If you ever do need to remove it, I'll be the one doing it,” Aramis said, lifting his head to kiss Porthos gently. Porthos grinned.

“Why do you think you cried, lover?” asked Aramis gently. He was pleased to see absolutely no embarrassment in Porthos' reaction whatsoever.

“Just drowning in Aramis,” he replied pleasantly. Aramis laughed and looked expectantly at Porthos. “I think it was just letting go of the fear and doubt that you might reject me. Well not so much letting go as having that fear and doubt ripped out of me.”

Aramis laughed again.

“I look after what's mine,” he said simply, kissing Porthos again.

Aramis' stomach gave an angry rumble and it was Porthos' turn to laugh.

“And I should look after what's mine,” Porthos replied, patting his stomach. Aramis chuckled and got up, pulling Porthos with him.

Porthos smiled nervously at him.

“Yeeees?” asked Aramis, knowing what he wanted.

“May I go and relieve myself, Sire?” asked Porthos, still finding it brought colour to his cheeks to ask.

“You may, lover,” said Aramis with a smile.

Aramis found his clothes and pulled his small-clothes, breeches and shirt on. He was just doing his breeches up when Porthos returned and paused outside the kitchen archway. Aramis saw him out the corner of his eye and waited to see what he'd do. Aramis walked over to his armchair and sat down comfortably.

Porthos followed him and stood beside his chair.

“Well remembered,” said Aramis kindly. Porthos beamed.

“May I be excused to make us some lunch, Sire?” he asked. Aramis nodded. Porthos glanced around at the clothes strewn around the room. “May I tidy up as well, please?” he asked with a grin.

“I'll do that,” Aramis replied. Porthos nodded and disappeared to the kitchen.

Aramis gathered up their clothes. He laid Porthos' shirt, breeches and underwear on his chair and put everything else on the stands. He silently rolled his eyes at how useful they were.

“Like 'em, then?” asked Porthos, grinning and sticking his head out the kitchen. Aramis rolled his eyes more obviously. Porthos laughed and ducked back into the kitchen.

As they ate comfortably, Aramis caught Porthos smiling to himself. He cleared his throat and Porthos beamed at him.

“I just like feeling your strap there, Sire,” he said. Aramis grinned.

When they'd both finished, Aramis took their plates to the kitchen and told Porthos to get dressed. They decided to spend the afternoon riding.

They quickly dressed and headed to the garrison. Porthos couldn't stop smiling, the hem of his under-clothes sitting on Aramis' strap made him constantly aware of the new addition. Aramis kept catching his eye. Knowing what made him smile made him smirk in return.

By the time they reached the yard, they were both grinning widely. Athos was in the yard, training with pistols the way Aramis had shown him. He turned to greet the pair and found them both wearing identical beaming smiles.

“Hello,” he said, slightly taken aback by the manic expressions on their faces.

“Hello!” they both said in unison. Athos found this even more disconcerting.

Aramis and Porthos looked at each other, confused by the baffled look on Athos' face.

“You're idiots,” Athos said quietly, smiling at them.

They both laughed and Porthos playfully cuffed him on the shoulder.

“We're going for a quick ride, Athos. Would you like to join us?” Aramis asked.

“Stretch our legs, have a gallop...” Porthos said enticingly.

“Wind in our hair, see the sun set from outside the city...” Aramis continued.

“Enjoy the freedom, the fresh air...” Porthos added.

“OK! OK!” said Athos, holding his hands up in defeat.

  
  


Aramis and Porthos staggered up their stairs late that night, rather drunk. They'd not expected Athos to drink quite that much. They playfully fought over who was going to unlock the door and fell through the door together, laughing. They lay on the floor in a tangle of swords and limbs, crying with laughter.

Porthos turned himself onto his stomach and crawled over to the hat stands and tried to pull himself up using it. This simply fell over on top of him, sending the pair of them into gales of laughter again.

Finally Aramis pulled himself to his feet and managed to close the door. He lit the candles on the wall sconce very carefully and turned back to Porthos.

Porthos was sprawled on the floor under one of the stands, snoring gently. Aramis carefully made his way over to him and prodded him with his boot. Porthos grunted at him and Aramis laughed. He pulled the stand off him and nearly fell over himself. Porthos opened his eyes and frowned up at Aramis.

“What you doin' up there?” he asked, slurring.

Aramis burst out laughing, leaning on his thighs to stop himself falling over. Porthos joined in and managed to pull himself to a sitting position against the wall.

Aramis laughed even harder, tears forming as Porthos gradually pushed himself up the wall and held his hands out in a flourish as he reached standing position. Aramis gave him a round of applause. They carefully stripped each other's sword belts and weapons off, giggling constantly.

They staggered into their bedroom and Aramis flung himself face first onto the bed. Porthos dropped into the chair at the end of their bed and struggled to pull his boots off. He finally managed it and quickly stripped of the remainder of his clothes. As he stood up, Aramis had rolled onto his back and was watching him.

“You remembered!” Aramis said brightly.

Porthos knelt down and removed Aramis' boots for him. He crawled up Aramis' body, straddling him. He gave him a sloppy drunken kiss.

“Always, Sire,” he mumbled, moving down to kiss Aramis' neck.

“So true,” Aramis murmured, running his hands up Porthos' back. “Such a good boy,” he purred as Porthos began kissing and nibbling up and down the line of his throat and jaw.

Porthos nibbled gently on the sensitive spot below Aramis' ear and felt the tell-tale shudder. He began to grind against Aramis slightly and growled low into his ear.

“Oh Sire, please. I've been so hard all afternoon,” he growled. “You making us gallop. I'm so sore. Every jolt,” he continued growling, biting Aramis slightly, “reminded me of you. Of every thrust,” he murmured, pressing into Aramis. “Every time the horse bounced, I remembered your cock. Every time I sat into the saddle, I felt you,” he growled, biting Aramis again.

Aramis murmured his approval.

“I'm glad you feel me, boy. I like you being sore for me,” Aramis wound his hand into Porthos' hair and pulled his head back sharply. “But no... Because I just  **love** you being hard and needy for me,” he said silkily.

Porthos groaned in frustration but his drive to obey overthrew everything. He nodded in Aramis' grasp and Aramis let go.

“You're such a good boy,” Aramis murmured. Porthos chuckled.

“Wish I wasn't,” he moaned, dragging himself up to a sitting position and unlaced Aramis' breeches and under-clothes.

Porthos drew Aramis' braces down and pulled his shirt off. He returned to Aramis legs and slowly drew the rest of his clothes off. Aramis felt him pause as Aramis' slightly hard cock was exposed to his gaze.

“Nuh-uh. Sleeeep,” murmured Aramis.

After a bit more drunken manoeuvring, they settled into bed in their normal position with Aramis curled up with his back against Porthos' chest. They both fell asleep almost immediately.

Over the next two weeks they settled into an easy rhythm on duty. They worked more and more with Athos and he proved himself a superior tactician and three of them quickly found he was their natural leader. They drank in the evenings together, Athos more than the others.

While at home, Porthos never slipped up once on any of his new rules about needing permission to leave his side. He'd even managed a couple of times to work out asking permission at the tavern once or twice. They settled into an easy routine where Aramis took care of most of the cooking on the rare occasions they ate at home rather than the garrison and Porthos took care of the cleaning. Aramis had still not let Porthos find release once but was making excellently regular use of his mouth and his backside.

They were due a couple of days leave and the day before Aramis had a messenger visit him at the garrison. When Athos asked what he had wanted Aramis had just followed him out the yard without explanation. Porthos knew the smirk that had appeared on his face intimately. He hid his widening grin from Athos and turned away to adjust his breeches. Whatever that message was, it did not bode well for Porthos.

 


	10. Completely his

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis spends the evening making Porthos completely his

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're getting their kink on :)  
> Read the tags for warnings.

Porthos practically ran up the stairs to their apartments that evening. Aramis had been sending him sexy looks all afternoon that had kept him semi-hard since lunchtime. At one point he'd caught Aramis staring intensely at him while trimming his nails. Aramis used to keep quite long fingernails and Porthos felt his cock twitch as he considered why Aramis kept his nails short, now. He honestly wasn't sure if he had enough blood for this.

Aramis stepped through the door behind Porthos and, as he closed it behind him, found himself roughly grabbed and slammed up against it. Porthos roughly turned him around and kissed him hard. Aramis responded in kind and kissed him hungrily, forcing his tongue into Porthos' mouth. Porthos was cheating and using his bulk and slight height advantage to get the better of him.

Aramis snaked his hand down between their bodies and gripped Porthos' cock through his breeches, hard enough to make Porthos growl. Porthos simply deepened the kiss, growling against Aramis' mouth. Aramis gripped him even harder and finally got the noise he wanted as Porthos whimpered and backed off.

“Too many clothes,” panted Aramis. Porthos stripped in record time. Normally fastidious about being tidy, Porthos threw them all on the floor. Aramis was following suit. When they were both finally nude, Porthos advanced on Aramis again but Aramis held his hands up.

“No. Calm. Calm, Porthos,” he said, sucking in great lungfuls of air. Porthos stopped dead and also took deep breaths.

“Yes, Sire,” he said huskily.

“Now, my love, I want you to take a few minutes in the wash room to calm down, attend to anything you need. Take your time, don't rush. I have a few things to do. When you're done I'd like you to come and find me,” Aramis said, forcing more calm into his voice than he felt.

Porthos nodded and looked pleadingly at him. Aramis granted him a gentle kiss and felt Porthos melt under his lips. Porthos smiled at him and disappeared. He sat on the bed in their second bedroom and took some deep breaths. He didn't quite know what Aramis had planned but the last time he'd seen that look in his eye he had been brutally taken four times in two days and hurt for a week.

Aramis had laid the items he had gathered on the chair in their bedroom and put a cloth over the top to keep them out of Porthos' eye line. He wandered back into the kitchen, pleased that Porthos was, indeed, taking time to calm down.

He was just filling their water skins when he heard Porthos close the bedroom door. As Porthos came up behind him, he felt most of the tension had gone. Porthos slipped his arms around Aramis' naked waist and settled himself against his back.

“You still feel nervous, my love,” Aramis murmured, reaching up and patting Porthos' cheek affectionately.

“I am, Sire,” he replied but Aramis could feel the smile in his voice.

Aramis turned in his arms and kissed him softly.

“I am so in love with you, Porthos. You make me so ridiculously happy,” he said. “Would you do anything for me?” he asked sweetly before Porthos could respond.

Porthos felt the butterflies beginning in his stomach again and felt a lurch of desire when Aramis smirked. He could always tell the moment Porthos felt fear.

“If it is within my power, Sire, yes. Always,” Porthos answered, searching Aramis' face for clues.

“Kneel by the bed please, my darling boy,” Aramis murmured, kissing him softly and stepping out of his embrace. Porthos nodded and walked away quickly.

Porthos took deep breaths again kneeling by the bed waiting for Aramis. When he didn't follow him in, he settled down to wait quietly. He already felt himself slipping under the fog that Aramis created around him. It was like settling under a big heavy blanket.

Aramis felt his cock twitch at the sight of Porthos kneeling patiently, recognising the signs of Porthos sinking.

Aramis stepped around him and stretched out on the bed on his back.

“Come,” he said softly.

Porthos rose gracefully and saw Aramis beckoning him closer. As he leaned over Aramis, Aramis placed his hands on Porthos' waist and guided him until he was straddling him. Porthos smiled curiously and stretched his legs out, flattening himself against Aramis' body.

Aramis moaned softly as Porthos' already hard cock rubbed against his own hardening member. Aramis slipped his hand under the pillow beside him and withdrew their bottle of oil. Porthos watched the movement and smiled broadly. Aramis handed him the bottle, uncharacteristically shy.

“Sire?” asked Porthos, taking the bottle and dipping his head to kiss Aramis' ear. “Would you like me to make love to you?”

Aramis grinned up at Porthos.

“Oh no, boy. I expect you to fuck me,” he purred. Porthos felt a surge of lust and hungrily pounced on Aramis' neck. He growled against Aramis' neck and bit down on the spot under Aramis' ear.

Aramis cried out with desire and dug his fingers into the back of Porthos' muscled shoulders. He writhed beneath Porthos, who squeezed his legs together and held Aramis' together.

“No, no, boy. No teasing. Want you now,” Aramis laughed into his shoulder.

“Yes, Sire,” chuckled Porthos in reply. He sat back on his heels and hooked Aramis' thighs over his own. A memory from months ago flashed through his mind and he felt his cock throb.

He needed to calm down so he took breaths and began gently massaging Aramis' buttocks. Aramis writhed on his lap and pressed himself into Porthos' hands. Porthos oiled up one of his fingers and dribbled a little bit onto Aramis' entrance. Aramis writhed again.

Porthos began to slowly stroke Aramis' cock while using his oiled hand to circle Aramis tight ring of muscle. Aramis whined softly.

“Sire,” he whispered.

“Mmm?” asked Aramis without opening his eyes.

“Do you want it to hurt?” Porthos asked, still whispering. Aramis shook his head. “Relax and let me drive then, love,” he chuckled softly.

Aramis laughed breathlessly.

“You drive me mad, my boy,” Aramis murmured forcing himself to rest his hips against Porthos' thighs. Porthos chose that moment to slide the first knuckle of his fingertip into him and was greeted by a loud laugh that rang through the room. Porthos chuckled with him and resumed stroking Aramis' cock slowly, letting him calm down. Aramis moaned softly, sinking into Porthos' lap as he pressed the rest of his finger into him.

Porthos began to stroke his finger in and out in time with his hand on Aramis' cock. As he felt Aramis' muscles relaxing he worked his finger in circles, slowly widening Aramis' muscles. He hadn't actually made love to Aramis with anything larger than his fingers since they'd returned to Paris. He added a second finger and felt Aramis tense slightly so he held still.

“Porthos,” moaned Aramis, signalling him to continue. Porthos smiled and began to move them in and out.

Porthos used Aramis' moans and slight hip movements as a guide for how quick he wanted Porthos to move, when he wanted him to pause, when to spread his fingers and, when he panted Porthos' name again, when to add a third. He had a great rush of awe for his owner as he realised that even when sprawled on his back, spread and waiting to be fucked, he still managed to control Porthos.

Aramis moaned wantonly, writhing on Porthos' lap. He felt Porthos' three thick fingers rotating inside him and was lost in pure pleasure. As Porthos increased the pace and it moved from gentle insertions to considerable finger fucking, Aramis pulled Porthos down to kiss him hungrily.

Porthos hunched over him and growled, pistoning his fingers in and out of Aramis as he moaned against his mouth.

“Fuck me, boy,” he panted and Porthos growled at the order, slowly drawing himself back down Aramis' slim body. He withdrew his fingers and lined his cock up at Aramis' entrance. He slowly pushed his thick cock into Aramis, groaning at the feeling of being enveloped by him.

Aramis keened loudly and panted for a few moments. They both held still, waiting for them both to get used to the feeling. Aramis was struggling to adjust to the width of Porthos' cock and Porthos was simply struggling to keep himself from spending inside Aramis without permission. He had been so wound up for weeks and weeks now that the heat and tightness of Aramis was testing his control seriously.

Aramis pulled Porthos' face down again and kissed him urgently. He arched his hips at Porthos who obediently pressed further into him, growling deep in his chest. Aramis' moan grew higher in pitch.

“Porthos,” he breathed. Porthos growled again and pressed himself all the way home into Aramis, his pelvis pressed against him. Porthos dropped his head to Aramis' shoulder and growled yet again.

“Sire,” came the desperate rasping noise. “Sire, please. I can't... Please let me...” he begged.

“No, boy,” whispered Aramis, his breath coming in short gasps. Porthos groaned and pressed his forehead against Aramis' shoulder. “Now do you're told and fuck me,” Aramis moaned.

Porthos whimpered and began to thrust into Aramis properly. He was far too turned on to make anything regular about his movements. It was taking all of his self control to deny himself release. Aramis felt Porthos' urgency and he found his obedience turned him on impossibly.

After only a few minutes, Aramis could feel Porthos trembling with the strain and whispered into his ear.

“Let me feel your release, boy,” he moaned, clenching his muscles around Porthos' cock.

Porthos came within seconds of hearing Aramis' order, burying his face into his shoulder and muffling the bellow formed by several weeks of teasing and denial at Aramis' hands.

Aramis dug his fingers into Porthos' shoulders again, being pleasantly surprised his predictions were correct and Porthos remained hard. Porthos jerked back to reality and began to thrust into Aramis slowly, his movements smoother now he wasn't so desperate.

Aramis arched his hips impatiently and Porthos grunted, obediently speeding up and fucking Aramis thoroughly.

Aramis moaned in delight, feeling his Porthos obey the simple movement of his hips. He relaxed under him, letting Porthos do all the work.

Porthos was sweating profusely, having already had one orgasm, he was worn out but found his stomach quickly tightening again. He'd been denied for so long that he could already feel another orgasm building.

Watching Aramis he could see him lost in sensation and found himself determined to please him. He concentrated on each small movement or long moan from Aramis and adjusted accordingly.

Aramis moaned in surprise as the skilled, familiar hand of his lover found his cock again and stroked him firmly, matching his thrusts in perfect timing.

“You will release with me, boy,” Aramis panted, twisting the sheet in his fists as he felt Porthos moving his thumb over his head on each stroke, managing to touch all his most sensitive spots every single time.

“Yes, Sire,” groaned Porthos, the strain in his voice evident.

Aramis gave himself over entirely to the sensations Porthos was providing and let him drive into him over and over until all of a sudden Porthos hit a spot inside him Aramis wasn't expecting and he felt himself fall over the edge and moaned with abandon, writhing beneath Porthos. He felt Porthos find his own completion for a second time within seconds and collapse on top of him, quivering from head to toe.

They lay panting for a long time until Porthos' dead weight became an issue for Aramis to catch his breath. He shivered as Porthos' softening cock slipped from him and gently nudged Porthos to the side.

Porthos rolled onto his side and nuzzled fervently against Aramis neck.

“Thank you, Sire,” he whispered earnestly.

“No losing yourself, boy. I'm not done with you yet. I still have lots of plans,” said Aramis, feeling energised rather than spent.

Porthos lifted his head in surprise and his stomach lurched, the nerves returning like a punch to the gut at the excited look in Aramis' eye. He pulled himself unsteadily to the head of the bed where they kept a cloth and he gently cleaned Aramis' stomach and cock. Aramis obligingly spread his legs and Porthos cleaned him there as well.

Aramis watched him without shame or embarrassment. He laughed to himself.

Porthos looked up at him from cleaning his own stomach and cock.

“Something amusing?”

“I was thinking there's no point owning someone if you're going to be too embarrassed to let them clean up,” Aramis replied.

Porthos gave a great booming laugh and dropped the cloth up on to the headboard.

“On your stomach, beautiful boy,” Aramis said, hopping out of bed eagerly. Porthos rolled over obediently.

Aramis produced a long piece of cloth, which he wound round Porthos' eyes three times.

“Can you see anything, lover?” he asked.

“Only shadows. I can see roughly where you are but not make out anything specific. Just see where light is blocked,” he answered honestly.

“That will do fine. Open your mouth,” Aramis said. His voice had dropped its affectionate lilt and was becoming more curt.

Porthos' stomach twisted. He associated that voice with pain. His suspicions were confirmed when Aramis pressed a cloth into his open mouth and he tied it in place with another cloth. The first cloth depressed his tongue and soaked up any noise and the second one pressed it in deeper. His stomach was in knots and he found himself leaning towards Aramis seeking comfort. None came.

Porthos was relying now on touch and sound alone. The next noise he could identify was the gentle slap of rope being unfolded and measured out. He found naked fear running through him. Last time Aramis had really hurt him was when he'd used the switch on their trip away. Even then, though, Aramis had only used the sash as a reminder not to talk. He didn't actually gag him. He'd never ever restrained him before. Porthos was feeling genuinely afraid.

Aramis felt Porthos jump a mile when he took his wrist in his hand. He gently wound a cloth around his wrist before tying his wrist to the bedpost. He repeated the motions on his other wrist so his arms were secured to the corners of the headboard.

Porthos was reassured by the cloth under the rope. It made him focus and reminded him this was Aramis. He concentrated his thoughts on the leather strap on his knee and took a few deep steadying breaths. He didn't jump nearly as much when Aramis wrapped one cloth around both of his ankles and then tied them securely together, adding a tether to the foot of the bed.

“Test them all please, boy,” Aramis said quietly. Porthos pulled gently on all of the ropes. Aramis made a slight adjustment to one of his wrists to reduce strain on his shoulder and removed the slack from between his ankles.

“Again,” Aramis said, just as quietly. Porthos repeated the motion and felt Aramis pat his bare backside, seemingly content.

Porthos jumped, yanking on all three ropes as the sound of a cane whistling through the air came out of nowhere. He struggled, desperate to see what Aramis was doing.

“Still,” said Aramis firmly.

Porthos froze and talked to himself constantly, telling himself Aramis wouldn't hurt him. He forced himself back to the centre. He couldn't stop himself jumping slightly when Aramis began to draw the cane over his skin. He felt Aramis tapping lightly across his bare backside.

Aramis began to tap slightly harder, just enough to cause a very light sting. He began to move his strikes up and down across the muscled cheeks.

“You are remarkably pleasing, Porthos,” Aramis said, dropping a strike hard enough to make Porthos hiss every now and then before returning to the light strikes. “You are always obedient. You always do as I ask. You always stay where I tell you. It makes me unbelievably happy that you choose to obey me every single time.”

Porthos felt himself sinking into the rapid rhythm of the cane. It seemed to be warming his skin from the inside. He recognised the pattern that every five lighter strokes, Aramis let a harder strike land and returned to the lighter ones for another five. He listened to Aramis' hypnotically low voice and focussed on him, vaguely paying attention to the five light, one hard, five light rhythm Aramis was sticking to.

“I love you very much, Porthos. You make me so proud. Your devotion and submission warm me constantly. When I ask you to do something and you don't hesitate, it makes me smile every time,” Aramis continued, watching Porthos constantly.

Porthos' brain felt foggy. The warmth on his backside was becoming decidedly hot and arousing him. He realised Aramis had stopped moving the cane around on him and was focussing on one spot on his left buttock.

“You're so strong and tough, Porthos. Then when I see you willingly slip to your knees before me, I can scarcely believe such a wonderful creature is mine,” Aramis continued in his low, rhythmic voice.

Porthos began to fidget, the building heat under his skin becoming decidedly uncomfortable. Aramis' rhythm had changed. It was now two light, one very hard, two light, one very hard. Porthos' hips were fidgeting, trying to get away from the relentless rhythm now that it had increased in intensity. He was finding it very frustrating that it wasn't changing speed.

“You know how much people admire you as a powerful, resilient man? Yet you give yourself to me so easily, so willingly, so obediently,” Aramis continued, licking his lips as he saw Porthos getting closer to where he wanted him.

Porthos pulled hard on the ropes on his ankles but Aramis was too careful. He couldn't get away. Aramis had done away with the light strokes entirely and it was just hard strokes. Again and again and again in the same spot over and over and over. He growled loudly, the sound coming from his chest.

Aramis brought the cane down quickly on Porthos' other buttock, the only warning Porthos had was the whistle and crack of the cane a split second before a white hot line of pain exploded across his skin. Porthos howled into the gag, only a low whine being audible. Aramis waited for Porthos to stop panting before resuming his quick rapid rhythm, a dark purple bruise already blooming on his left cheek acting as a target for him.

Porthos groaned in frustration as the quick strikes over and over in the same spot resumed.

“Your obedience makes me so happy. Makes me feel so loved, so protected,” Aramis said calmly, as if the sudden strike hadn't occurred.

Porthos was growling angrily, getting more and more annoyed by the continuing strikes, Aramis refusing to change location or pace whatsoever. He'd also stopped increasing the intensity so it was the same blow again and again and again. The painful burning under his skin was being increasingly taken over by a sharp pain left after each strike. Aramis' frustratingly consistent speed was meaning he wasn't having a chance to process the pain any more.

Aramis grinned maliciously, watching Porthos grow increasingly angry and frustrated under the cane.

“I really love watching you volunteer yourself to me, Porthos,” Aramis continued quietly.

Porthos was growling and fidgeting constantly, the maddeningly unyielding beating driving him out of his mind.

“But see, Porthos. There's something I think we've forgotten to get clear,” Aramis said, keeping his voice calm.

Porthos gave a frustrated bellow into the gag, being even more annoyed that he couldn't voice his anger or even get a response from Aramis.

“You don't have a choice,” Aramis continued quietly, refusing to deviate from his constant beating.

Porthos roared, the sound swallowed by the gag. The heat was unbearable but his skin felt like it was being sliced over and over and over again, too fast for him to process, too fast for him to prepare for the next strike.

“You see, now? I want to hurt you, so I am,” Aramis said simply, his arm aching but he was so so close.

Porthos let out a definite scream of pure pain, quickly being taken over by a desperate roar, his wrists yanking hard on the headboard, making it shake.

“You don't have a choice, Porthos. You're mine,” said Aramis loudly and Porthos froze. Aramis continued to beat him consistently and resumed his low tone.

“Struggle all you like, fight all you like. You can't even tell me you don't like it. It's irrelevant. You're mine and I will do what I want. It doesn't matter if you volunteer, if you're willing, if you give yourself to me. You. Are. Mine. I will take what I want,” he said, forcing his voice to stay calm.

Finally, Aramis got him where he wanted him. Porthos had sagged against the bed and was silent and still while the beating continued.

Aramis paused for a moment, breathless, his eyes shining in excitement. He swapped arms and began harder, slower strokes on the opposite cheek. These were more vicious, more spaced apart. They were leaving white lines, quickly welting as the cane moved somewhere else. Aramis had to squeeze his hardening cock when he saw Porthos beginning to arch into the strikes, seeking the pain.

Aramis paused and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He listened carefully and there was a deep humming noise coming from Porthos' chest. He licked his lips and had to take deep breaths to stop his desire for Porthos' pain overload anything else.

“Last ten, boy,” he said firmly. Porthos hummed.

Aramis brought the cane down rapidly across the back of Porthos' calves, carefully striking across both legs. He struck again, slightly higher. He paused and admired the four small stripes on his calves. He placed four matching pairs of stripes on the back of his thighs, again catching both legs. Aramis lay another two savage strikes on the back of his thighs. The final two strikes were across his right buttock and both broke the skin.

The only reaction from Porthos had been a slight humming after each strike. When the last one landed, Porthos' entire body shuddered, a whole ripple going from his shoulders to his toes and back up again. Aramis carefully lay the cane down and caught his breath. He leaned over so he could see Porthos' face and while it was sweating profusely, there wasn't a single frown line any where on it. There was even a tiny smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Aramis untied the rope from the foot of the bed but left his ankles bound. He did the same with his wrists, releasing them from the bed but then tying them together. He also removed the gag and blindfold, needing to coax Porthos to open his mouth to remove the cloth. Aramis settled onto the bed and guided Porthos' head into his lap. He nudged and gently cajoled Porthos into drinking some water out of the skin.

Aramis gently rolled Porthos onto his side, feeling a happy little twinge when Porthos hissed as his deep, darkly bruised cheek was pressed slightly against the bed. Porthos nuzzled into Aramis' lap calmly, a definite smile on his features now.

Aramis waited until Porthos seemed like he was trying to fall asleep before nudging him again.

“Round three, boy,” he said quietly.

Porthos lifted his head and looked up Aramis at the awkward angle. Aramis had a steely determination under his normal mischievous expression now. He glanced to the side and saw Aramis semi-hard again. His eyes widened.

“Oh yes, boy,” Aramis said darkly. “You know how I like you.”

Porthos gulped.

“Don't make me teach you again that you can't choose,” he said, letting the threat creep into his voice.

Porthos quickly scrambled to comply, awkwardly moving with his wrists still bound. Aramis gently steered him into position by the hips and shoulders until he was on his knees with his face buried in the pillow. He untied Porthos' ankles and smiled as he immediately spread his legs, knowing from habit how far apart Aramis liked them to be.

Aramis wasted absolutely no time in slipping two well oiled fingers inside him. Porthos grunted in pain, the exceptionally sore skin on his buttocks making it very difficult to relax today.

Aramis was far more patient today than he normally was, understanding that Porthos had an awful lot of sensations going on. He slowly worked his fingers in and out of Porthos, twisting his fingers to loosen the muscles.

“Shh, shh, good boy. Let me in, you know you want me. My good boy,” Aramis murmured encouragingly as Porthos began to relax and Aramis added a third finger. Porthos was utterly beyond being able to respond now. He was far too deep under to protest. Aramis was relying entirely on feel.

Finally, when Porthos muscles were much more relaxed than they normally would be, Aramis knelt up behind Porthos and slowly pressed his cock home. Porthos sighed beneath him and Aramis shivered at the placid, blissful sound. Aramis slowly, calmly began to thrust in and out of Porthos. He gently reached between Porthos' legs and stroked him. Porthos gasped softly, dimly surprised he was becoming hard yet again.

Aramis continued his slow pace, focussing more on working Porthos' cock than his own pleasure. Porthos was gasping almost immediately, the burning pain on his legs and all over his buttocks was driving him wild. His wrists were still bound and he was finding the feeling of being trapped was irresistible. Aramis hand knew him so well and quickly had him at the edge of orgasm.

He desperately wanted to release but wasn't yet able to form words to ask permission. Aramis saw his dilemma and whispered into his ear.

“You may, boy,”

Porthos groaned loudly and his legs gave way under him as he had his third orgasm of the night. Aramis followed him down and gently lay his hands on his supremely sore buttocks. Porthos gasped, a pitiful helpless noise. Aramis gently spread them and resumed thrusting in and out of the passive Porthos. He was finding it harder and harder to stay in control and decided to adjust his plans slightly.

He pulled Porthos' hips sharply towards him and leaned over Porthos' back, delighting in the hiss of pain elicited by Aramis' pelvis rubbing against his agonised buttocks. He moved with certainty this time, determined to reach his climax quickly, not certain Porthos would last long enough to complete the other things Aramis had in mind.

Porthos had become unresponsive again so Aramis dug his fingers into the dark black and purple bruise. Porthos gasped in pain.

“Stay with me, my boy,” he urged quietly. Porthos groaned and Aramis felt him engage again, his back arching for Aramis.

Aramis gripped Porthos' hips, hard enough to bruise and listened to the surprised grunt of pain from him. That was all he needed and Aramis reached his completion, burying himself deep inside Porthos and moaning low in his ear, feeling Porthos responding by clenching his muscles around Aramis' cock.

Aramis softened quickly, being almost entirely exhausted by the events of the evening. He leaned forwards and picked up the cloth. He cleaned himself up and then gently rolled Porthos over onto his back. Porthos groaned loudly as his blazing hot buttocks hit the bed.

“Stay, stay with me, my beautiful boy,” Aramis crooned. Porthos picked his head up, hearing the affection return to Aramis voice. His eyes widened and he tensed all over, seeing the knife in Aramis' hand.

“Shh, shh... Think. You know what this is for,” he urged quietly. Porthos blinked and then his face broke into a wide smile and he relaxed.

Aramis smoothed his hand over the inside of his left thigh, finding the faint lines. Aramis kissed them lightly and then quickly, before Porthos could get too tense, cut one of the three lines back into his thigh.

Porthos growled in pain and fidgeted but quickly stopped moving, wanting these lines on his leg as much as Aramis did. Aramis looked up at him and saw Porthos had himself back under control. He cut the second line and heard Porthos growl again. Porthos didn't move this time so Aramis quickly cut the third line into his leg and dropped his dagger onto the bed beside him.

Porthos was still reeling from the sensation of being marked again when he felt Aramis' fingers enter him again.

“Last round, my beautiful boy,” said Aramis, teasingly.

Porthos groaned in exhaustion and arched his hips up obediently. Aramis crooked his fingers forward and found the small bulb he'd touched upon before. Porthos gasped loudly and stared at Aramis in surprise.

“Sire, no, please. I can't! No more!” Porthos said, laughing weakly.

“Yes you can, boy,” said Aramis firmly, experimenting with pressure until Porthos was trying to writhe away from him. “And you will.”

Aramis gently moved his fingers back and forth, settling on a rhythm that seemed to be driving Porthos wild but without overloading him.

Porthos was absolutely exhausted. He felt like he was a damp cloth that Aramis was determined to wring the last remnants of water out of. He shuddered again and again, baffled that he could be approaching orgasm without a single touch to his cock, which had suddenly reached full hardness and was twitching uncontrollably.

Aramis recognised the signs and he growled hungrily at Porthos, pressing his fingers a little harder,

“Now, boy,”

Porthos almost wept when he felt a fourth orgasm pulled from him. He had no idea what just happened and he felt physically manipulated beyond his own understanding.

He was still coming down as he felt Aramis quickly cleaning him up and then a sudden strange sensation. He lifted his head but couldn't see what Aramis was doing and without the use of his bound hands, he was still unable to prop himself up. He dropped his head back to the pillow, panting desperately and not lifting a finger to stop Aramis.

“Take a look,” murmured Aramis, helping Porthos sit up. He frowned in confusion and looked at Aramis for help.

Aramis had attached a very narrow leather cord around the head of his penis and a slightly thicker one around the base, catching his testicles in its grasp. A third cord attached these two, folding Porthos' penis in half.

“This is yet another reminder that your choice to obey me is irrelevant,” Aramis said. He laughed as Porthos' tired brain didn't seem able to comprehend. “When you get hard, your cock thickens. This will stop it by making it too painful. Even if you manage to get through the pain, this cord,” he said, flicking the connecting one, “will stop your cock being able to stand up. Also if, by some miracle, you manage to get close to release, that bottom cord will have become so tight you'll find it almost impossible.”

Porthos' face had drained of colour during the explanation.

“Sire...” he breathed. Aramis just smirked and used the cloth to clean the trickles of blood off his thigh. He picked up the strip of cloth that had been round his ankles and wrapped it around his thigh, covering the cuts.

Porthos dropped back onto the bed in absolute exhaustion and watched Aramis as he moved around the room tidying slightly. He kissed Porthos gently.

“Just going to put this back,” he said softly, showing him his dagger. Porthos nodded, grateful he'd thought of telling him.

When he came back, Porthos hadn't moved and was staring at the doorway. He smiled as Aramis came through the door. Aramis snuffed every candle but the one above their bed.

“Would you like your wrists undone, my love?” he asked quietly.

“Only if you don't mind, Sire. I like to hold you while I sleep. It... comforts me,” he said shyly. Aramis smiled and held his hand out. Porthos watched as Aramis undid the knots in seconds despite the fact that Porthos had pulled them with all his strength and they hadn't given.

“Quick release knots?” he asked, warmed by the consideration Aramis showed. Aramis nodded.

“Of course, my love,” he answered. Aramis unwrapped the cloth from his wrists and examined them. There were faint pink lines but nothing else. “Turn over, darling.”

Porthos rolled over onto his stomach and hissed slightly as Aramis' fingers touched upon the various bruises and marks. Aramis confirmed to himself only two had broken the skin but every single one of the last ten had made a pair of swollen pink welts.

Aramis had a private little shiver of joy seeing them.

He nudged Porthos onto his side, in his normal place. Aramis leaned up to blow out their last candle. He settled into Porthos' arms and felt Porthos bury his face into the back of his neck.

Porthos was trying to do an inventory of all the little parts of him that were hurting and he kept getting lost. His favourite was his thigh. Then he was adjusting to the cords on his penis. He still held a great deal of love for the strap on his leg. He also was enjoying the bone-deep throbbing in his buttock. There were so many other parts of him that hurt, he couldn't keep track.

“I love you, Sire,” he murmured into the back of Aramis' neck, his arm tightening gently around Aramis.

“I love you too. I'm so happy you're mine,” he whispered in reply, feeling Porthos falling asleep heavily.

 


	11. Life together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two men enjoy the beginning of their lives together

He had been so exhausted from the forced orgasms it wasn't until the afternoon before returning to duty that Porthos understood the full effect of the leather cords. Aramis had told him he was free to undo the connecting one to pass water but was to reconnect it. Porthos was just enjoying the visual and the feeling of being bound. Aramis was simply swaggering around and kept telling him to wait and see.

They'd collected Athos and rode out the city to their normal clearing. It was only a couple of hours out of the city but far enough to feel like a break. The riding had been quite a challenge for Porthos, the purple bruise on his backside had deepened and was remarkably painful to the touch. After they'd had a light lunch, they decided to spend a while training in hand to hand combat.

All three stripped off their doublets and took it in turns to spar.

When it came round to Aramis and Porthos' second turn together, Porthos was still breathing hard from his spar with Athos. Aramis circled him until his back was to Athos, who had sat down. Aramis raked his eyes up and down Porthos' body in a very very pointed way and Porthos sucked in a breath.

Aramis smirked and mouthed the words 'pant for me' at him. Porthos felt a lurch in his stomach. Aramis stretched, his arms high above his head and arched his back. Porthos immediately saw that lithe flexible body without clothes. He felt the first stirrings in his breeches and immediately realised his cock was unable to thicken. His eyes went wide and Aramis' filled with that mischievous twinkle.

“Come on then, Porthos. Let's get to it!” Aramis called.

Porthos tried to force his mind back to the task at hand and began to move with Aramis. He was still distracted, however, because Aramis was able land a violent hit to his stomach, winding him. As he hunched over, Aramis leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Still panting for me?”

Porthos straightened up and scowled at him. He raised his arms to guard himself.

“It seems you have Porthos on the ropes, Aramis,”

“I'm sure you softened him up, my friend. I will do all I can to keep him soft,” Aramis replied. He turned his head to give Porthos an innocent smile. Porthos felt a slice of pain through the head of his cock as the cord dug in, preventing his cock hardening. Aramis' smile turned predatory as he recognised Porthos' expression.

Porthos felt his cock give another twitch and another wave of pain as it fought against the cord. He gave Aramis a very long look as he beamed at him. This was going to be a very long afternoon.

  
  


As the two of them returned to their apartment late that night, Porthos pulled Aramis into his arms as soon as the door was closed.

“You terror,” he murmured against Aramis' ear. Aramis leaned back and laughed loudly.

“I like to keep you safe,” he said innocently.

“Safe? Really?” Porthos murmured, lowering his head and nibbling along Aramis' neck. “You're going with 'safe', Sire?”

Aramis wrapped his arms around Porthos and leaned into him, enjoying the attention.

“What word would you choose, my love?” Aramis asked, sighing at Porthos' breath passing across his neck.

Porthos didn't reply and just pulled Aramis tighter against his body.

“Perhaps you'd prefer... controlled? Captive? Owned?” Aramis wondered aloud as Porthos continued to nibble under Aramis' ear. He trailed his hands down Porthos' back and pressed on the spot he knew the cane mark was. Porthos growled against Aramis' throat and bit gently on the spot that drove Aramis wild. Sure enough, Aramis shuddered in his arms.

“I still think safe is right,” he continued, a trace of lust creeping into his voice. “Neither of us want you to disobey me, do we? We've already had the conversation that willing obedience is nice but I also quite like knowing that you **can't** actually disobey me, even if you wanted to.”

“Could cut them off,” Porthos mumbled, moving round to kiss along Aramis' throat, forcing his head up.

“You could, that's true. You wouldn't, though. Even if you did, I'd know,” Aramis replied, his voice dropping slightly as his arousal grew.

“Don't you trust me?” asked Porthos playfully, moving round to the opposite side of Aramis' neck and resuming his trails of kisses and gentle bites. He felt Aramis chuckle and was pleased to hear a breathy note to it.

“I do, my love. It just turns me on to know that you can't even **express** your arousal, let alone act upon it. It makes your desires genuinely unimportant,” he said, arching himself against Porthos' body. Porthos growled and clenched his fist on Aramis' coat.

“And your desires, Sire?” he asked thickly.

“Are fuelled by knowing you're all tied up, waiting for me,” Aramis replied. He turned his head to whisper into Porthos' ear. “Yours are too, aren't they? Knowing I can control you like this?”

Porthos groaned and buried his head into Aramis' shoulder.

“Admit it, boy,” Aramis whispered dangerously.

“Yes, Sire,” Porthos groaned, flexing his hips uselessly.

Aramis gently disentangled himself and began undressing Porthos. Porthos stood still and let Aramis circle him, removing his weapons and clothes slowly.

“Tell me about it,” Aramis said softly as he removed his doublet.

“It... It... every time my body tries to make its own desires known, it's stopped by yours. It makes me feel powerless. I... My natural responses are yours. It... The cords... Every time I'm stopped and I feel that pain, that reminder I'm so completely controlled, I... It gets worse,” Porthos said breathlessly.

Aramis tugged his shirt over his head and walked him backwards to sit at the table. He knelt to remove Porthos' boots and looked up at him, his lips curving into his mischievous smile.

“Worse, my darling?” he asked quietly.

“It... When I can't... Knowing that... I get more and more turned on and my body tries even harder to become rigid with every reminder that I can't... that you won't... that you don't permit me to,” Porthos replied, finishing with a whisper as his hips jerked as another wave of pain hit him in response to his own arousal.

Aramis reached up and began unlacing his breeches. Porthos clasped his wrists gently, not stopping them at all.

“Sire, please,” he whimpered. Aramis just continued unlacing them and Porthos groaned, dropping his hands to his sides. Aramis pulled Porthos to his feet and gently drew his breeches down, leaving his underwear intact. Aramis returned to his knees and gently nuzzled Porthos' restrained cock through his small-clothes.

“Aramis,” Porthos groaned, his hands fluttering uselessly at his sides. Aramis chuckled quietly, his breath warm on Porthos' groin.

Aramis raised his hand and gently found Porthos through his clothing. Porthos nearly lost his balance as his hips lurched into Aramis' hand.

“Aramis,” he repeated breathlessly.

“I thought we agreed we'd focus on my desires now?” Aramis murmured, looking up at Porthos.

The sight of Aramis on his knees with that cruel smile playing at his lips was almost too much to bear. Porthos bit his lip and closed his eyes. He groaned again as he felt Aramis' fingers at the laces of his under-clothes.

Aramis slowly pushed them down over his hips and the two men shared a gasp as his restrained cock was exposed to the air. Aramis bit his lip, the sight of Porthos' cock bulging around the two loops, unable to thicken like it wanted to, made his own jump into life. The cord connecting the two was taut, where Porthos' cock was trying to harden. Aramis stroked the cords with his fingertip.

“Poor Porthos,” he murmured. “Looks painful.”

“Yes, Sire,” groaned Porthos.

Aramis leaned forward and kissed the bulging skin before moving to the side and kissing the still scabbed 'A' on his inner thigh as well. Porthos' knees almost buckled.

He opened his eyes, feeling Aramis rise to his feet. Aramis cradled Porthos' face in his hands and kissed him softly. Porthos sighed against him and kissed him back, his body melting against Aramis'.

“Undress me,” Aramis whispered.

Porthos complied quickly. His movements weren't lascivious. They were, quick, efficient and remarkably gentle. Porthos indicated the chair he'd sat on earlier and Aramis sat down so Porthos could remove his long boots. When Porthos pushed Aramis' breeches and underwear down, he knelt to remove them completely. Aramis laid his hand on Porthos' shoulder to hold himself steady as he stepped out of them.

Aramis held out his hand and drew Porthos to his feet. He kissed him again, less gently this time. Wrapping his arms around Porthos, Aramis deepened the kiss and with every twinge he felt in his own hard cock, he thought of Porthos', unable to do the same. It made him moan into Porthos' mouth and he felt his lover's chest rumble.

The pair stumbled to the bedroom, their arms locked around each other, kissing hungrily. Aramis fell backwards onto the bed and pulled Porthos down with him. He ran his hands up and down Porthos' back and arched his own, pressing himself against his lover.

“Porthos,” he whispered, breathlessly.

Porthos growled and leaned down to bite Aramis again. Aramis cried out and his arms fell to his sides. Porthos gently swiped his tongue over the mark, feeling Aramis shudder.

Aramis raised his arms and gently pushed Porthos off him and back to the floor. Porthos followed his hands and knelt on the floor. Aramis sat up, his achingly hard cock giving another lurch, seeing Porthos on his knees, the mark Aramis had cut in him visible between his thighs, beside his restrained cock.

Aramis reached his hand out and smiled as Porthos leaned his cheek into it. He stroked his face gently and wound it into his hair, pulling him gently forwards and guiding his mouth to his cock.

He felt Porthos' hand come up to circle his cock and tugged his hair gently. Porthos had already learned this meant no hands. He dropped his hands to his thighs and felt Aramis tug his hair again.

“Behind your back, my love. I wouldn't like you to get tempted,” he said wickedly. Porthos folded them behind him and looked up questioningly. The nod he received in reply let him know he'd done correctly.

Aramis gasped as he felt Porthos hot mouth cover his cock. He could feel Porthos' desire in the way he moved his mouth quickly down over Aramis' length. He tugged gently on Porthos' hair.

“Gently, boy. Nice and gently,” he whispered. Porthos smiled up at him and withdrew slightly.

Aramis sighed indulgently as Porthos began to slowly massage the head of his cock with his tongue. He let go of Porthos' hair and fell back onto the bed, his arms behind his head. For a long time he simply let Porthos worship him.

Porthos was using Aramis' sighs and tiny murmurs as a guide. He kept his pace slow, gently moving his mouth further and further down Aramis. He was beginning to grow tired when finally Aramis began to arch his hips. Porthos smiled around him and began to slip his mouth further down on him, letting the tip of Aramis' long cock slip into his throat.

Aramis was thoroughly enjoying himself. There was no other word for this than worship. He'd expected the bondage on Porthos' cock to make him more desperate. He hadn't expected this gloriously calm devotion but it was extremely welcome. He began to want more and arched his hips at Porthos and moaned softly as he felt Porthos' tight throat envelope the head of his cock.

Porthos gradually moved further down with each slow pass over Aramis, letting more and more of him into his throat. He concentrated hard on his gag reflex, not wanting to spoil Aramis' relaxed mood. Aramis had always enjoyed being admired and praised but Porthos wanted this to be something special. He wanted to express all his dedication and selflessness in this, making it clear to Aramis that he understood his place.

Aramis moaned loudly as Porthos' nose was finally pressed against him. The heat enveloping him from base to tip was intoxicating. He gasped as Porthos drew himself up off his cock, swirled his tongue once around the sensitive tip and then sank all the way down him again.

Aramis pulled himself up until he was sat up and could see Porthos. He watched, fascinated, as Porthos pulled almost all the way off him again and repeated the motion.

“Look at me,” he whispered, breathlessly.

He moaned again as Porthos' eyes flicked up and met his.

“You're so beautiful, my Porthos,” he murmured. Porthos smiled around him and hummed. Aramis laughed and ruffled his hair.

Porthos dropped his eyes and began to move up and down Aramis' cock in regular movements, taking all of Aramis' length into his mouth and throat each time.

“I told you to look at me, beautiful. I want to watch my boy take all of my cock,” Aramis moaned.

Porthos groaned around him and looked back up. He found his own cock resumed trying to get hard as he watched the pleasure in Aramis' eyes each time he deep-throated his considerable length. Aramis recognised the look.

“That's it, boy. Remember how much pleasure I get from you all tied up and suffering. How much joy it brings me to know that while my cock is buried deep in your throat, yours is safely caged, just waiting for me to use it. Remember that, know that,” he said softly.

Porthos whimpered and Aramis saw the pain flash across them, knowing the cords must biting into him. Aramis drew himself forwards until he was leaning over Porthos. He wound his hair into Porthos' hair and pulled his head off him. He held it back and heard Porthos gasp in pain.

“Mine,” he hissed.

Before Porthos could react, his hair was yanked painfully forwards and Aramis thrust up into his mouth roughly. He forced himself to relax as Aramis made fast, brutal use of his mouth. He felt Aramis forcing himself into his throat and he focussed all his energy into keeping himself relaxed in Aramis' grip.

After several brutal minutes, he felt himself beginning to gag as Aramis' thrusts got faster and harder. Aramis moaned at the sensation and held himself deep in Porthos' throat and used his hand on his hair to keep him still. Porthos felt himself gagging and tried to pull away but was held fast. Porthos tried hard to relax but couldn't stop gagging around him. He was beginning to struggle for air and tried again to pull away. Aramis wouldn't let go and simply moaned. Porthos began to see dark spots dancing in front of his eyes and tried one last wrench away. Aramis still refused to let go. Porthos felt himself hovering on the edge of consciousness and finally Aramis dragged him up off his cock.

Aramis kept a tight grip on Porthos' hair as he gasped for breath. He only gave Porthos a few seconds before yanking him hard back down to his cock. Aramis moaned as he slid straight back into Porthos' throat without resistance. He set himself a solid rhythm, hard and fast, using Porthos' hair to make brutal use of his mouth and throat. He felt his stomach tightening and he pushed himself deep into Porthos' willing throat. He lifted one of his legs, dug his heel into the spot he knew the cane bruise was and felt Porthos whimper around him. He moaned loudly and dropped his head back.

Porthos felt Aramis empty himself down his throat. He felt utterly powerless, not even having the need or ability to swallow with Aramis so deep in his throat. His heart gave a great leap as he heard Aramis moan his name.

“Porthos, oh Porthos. My Porthos,” Aramis chanted, his orgasm rippling through him. He felt Porthos' throat squeezing him, trying to swallow but Aramis was too far deep for it to make a difference.

Finally, he released Porthos' hair and let himself fall onto his back, laughing breathlessly. He hummed as he felt Porthos slowly moving off him, licking and kissing him until he was completely relaxed. He laughed again as Porthos mischievously licked a long swipe across the sensitive tip and waved his arm to get Porthos' attention. He felt Porthos pull back and knew, without looking, Porthos had settled onto his heels waiting for instructions.

“Bedtime,” Aramis murmured, without moving.

Porthos stood awkwardly, his legs hurting after so long on his knees. He paused uncertainly, looking at Aramis sprawled sideways across the centre of the bed.

“Sire?” he asked, a smile in his voice. Aramis waved his arm at him again. Porthos shook his head and scooped Aramis up, one arm behind his knees and one under his neck. He turned him sideways and lay him back down.

Aramis forced his eyes open and watched as Porthos climbed awkwardly over him to settle onto the bed against the wall. He waited until Porthos was settled before turning away from him and shuffling backwards.

Porthos reached out and wrapped his arm around Aramis, pulling him back against him in one smooth motion. They fit together as perfectly as always. They sighed in unison and quickly chuckled together.

“I love you, Master,” Porthos whispered in Aramis' ear.

“Didn't think you liked that term,” Aramis replied sleepily.

“It fits,” he answered quietly.

Aramis smiled and turned his head back to look at Porthos. His rich warm eyes were full of devotion. Porthos dipped his head and kissed him softly. Aramis smiled again and turned his head back. He pulled Porthos' arm tighter around him and smiled. Porthos buried his face into the dark waves of Aramis' hair and together they fell into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts and requests always welcome at kitacularao3 at gmaildotcom :D


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